Wash grins brightly at Drift when he joins in. Great, now all they need to do is get the kids engaged in an activity and one of them can peel off to find wherever these kids came from.
The act falters for a moment when Drift does, and Wash mentally kicks himself for failing at introductions - there are dozens of ways to fuck up a conversation and he'd managed a whole hell of a lot of them - when help comes from an unexpected source. "Freelancer," one of the kids pipes up, voice slightly awestruck. Wash figures it has to be for the giant robot, but...nope, the kid is wearing a gray shirt with haphazard yellow patches in about the right places. He might have even attached them himself. That child is probably in hog heaven right now - the best thing Wash can do is get back in the act-
And stop Drift before he gets any further because what the fuck. "Whoa there, Drift!" he says with a loud laugh, laying a hand on Drift's leg (because that's about all he can reach at the moment). "I think you might've confused this class with the advanced course!" Please, for the love of God, do not teach the group of six-year-olds about bladed weaponry, what the fuck. "I mean, I can't blame you - they do look ready to take on Galactus!" It's big and jovial and obviously an act, because it damn well needs to be, but it's working - several of the kids are preening, and several more look hopeful in that do you mean it sort of fashion.
"For now, let's start you off with some basic exercises. Who here knows how to do a jumping jack?" He raises his hand, and hopefully the kids will play along with this too. If all else fails, it's a good stalling tactic until either they can come up with some kid-appropriate activities or the chaperones arrive - whichever comes first.
no subject
The act falters for a moment when Drift does, and Wash mentally kicks himself for failing at introductions - there are dozens of ways to fuck up a conversation and he'd managed a whole hell of a lot of them - when help comes from an unexpected source. "Freelancer," one of the kids pipes up, voice slightly awestruck. Wash figures it has to be for the giant robot, but...nope, the kid is wearing a gray shirt with haphazard yellow patches in about the right places. He might have even attached them himself. That child is probably in hog heaven right now - the best thing Wash can do is get back in the act-
And stop Drift before he gets any further because what the fuck. "Whoa there, Drift!" he says with a loud laugh, laying a hand on Drift's leg (because that's about all he can reach at the moment). "I think you might've confused this class with the advanced course!" Please, for the love of God, do not teach the group of six-year-olds about bladed weaponry, what the fuck. "I mean, I can't blame you - they do look ready to take on Galactus!" It's big and jovial and obviously an act, because it damn well needs to be, but it's working - several of the kids are preening, and several more look hopeful in that do you mean it sort of fashion.
"For now, let's start you off with some basic exercises. Who here knows how to do a jumping jack?" He raises his hand, and hopefully the kids will play along with this too. If all else fails, it's a good stalling tactic until either they can come up with some kid-appropriate activities or the chaperones arrive - whichever comes first.