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Well, this was kind of the worst, Jib Janeen reflected. He'd been this close to a super sweet panicky mob, but the humans couldn't even manage that. Instead he'd been stuck helping them warn people about the looming menace of a CRAFTY JUPITER SPY, all the while being that self-same menace, looming all over the place. Just wanton looming. Truly egregious.
Well, it could be worse. He'd slipped in some subliminal paranoia (probably) and gained some intel about some key players in the Martian scene. Unfortunately, it was dumb intel, nothing in the way of passwords or usernames, but it would likely serve him in his next super subversive infiltration of the Marshal station.
But he wouldn't be able to wear Sparks Nevada's form again. That guy was coming back in, like, half a rotation and honestly, his job was the most boring thing to get stuck doing. Jib would have to slip away before that, and find someone else's shape to wear, someone who wouldn't arouse suspicion--
"This is most disconcerting, Sparks Nevada,"
The Martian's voice broke in of Jib's train of thought. "Woah, Croach! Yeah, that could... What is now?"
"You are feigning ignorance," Tall, Blue and Handsome said. "But I believe I have finally deduced the reason for your reticence to engage with me in the manner we had previously established before my return."
"What's that, babe?"
"I have recently arisen from organic death. You, who find the simple miracle of Nah-Notek healing distasteful to your meager five senses, are surely finding this overwhelming."
"Aww, hahah... Y'know, I didn't wanna say anything, but yeah, all of that. You nailed it. Great detectiving, C-man." Jib shot him a finger gun, the universal sign of approval among beings with fingers.
"You likely have many questions about the continuing existence of consciousness beyond brain death and the higher working of the universe," Croach continued sagely.
"Meh. I'm good."
"You do not care to know the unknowable?"
"It seems like it's going to take a long time and I kinda wanna just... not... do that?" Jib fiddled evasively with a holster on his belt. It wasn't actually a holster, just part of his stolen form. Jupiterian biology, man--The greatest.
"...Yes. Well. I was only going to inform you that I cannot explain them in the limited words of your human language and you should not ask me about them. Which is apparently a false concern."
"Look I get that you wanna talk about how you totally rose from the dead--which, fair on you, is kinda neat--but it's sort of like hearing about someone else's vacation," Jib sighed. "I get it. Hot springs and stuff. Unknowable depths of the universe. Lah-di-dah for you. Look, alls I wanna do is forget about today and probably never talk about it again and maybe not even understand what you're talking about if you bring it up in the future. Is that cool?"
"I will concede to your desire to cease conversing on these topics," Croach monotoned.
"Awesome." Jib paused, and gave the Martian a once over on the sly. Hmm, pretty good. And apparently sturdy, what with the reincarnation and everything. (Mars was crazy. All the stuff going on that everyone never shut up about? Full on nutso. No wonder it needed spying on.)
Well, his spy babies weren't gonna have themselves. (Okay, they kind of would, but still, a host was required). Time to kick this espionage into overdrive.
"Soooo," Jib began, raising an eyebrow, like, mad seductively, "did I mention that I'm like totally psyched that you undied on our last weirdo Mars adventure?"
"You did not, Sparks Nevada. I am under onus to you for that sentiment."
"Naw, you don't gotta be so formal with the onus stuff and everything, guy."
"I literally cannot stop tabulating onus. It is deeply ingrained in my behavioral patterns. Ceasing to tabulate would cause me great distress as well as banishment from my tribe, which I am frankly surprised has not happened yet."
"Shut up. C'mere, lemme give you a hug."
"Doing so will reduce my onus to you," Croach warned.
"Hey, whatever you gotta do to make this cool for you, big guy."
Jib wrapped the Martian up in a subversive, evil hug, then, right before he pulled away, he planted a kiss solidly on Croach's lips. Right there on the street where anyone could see. Scandalous!
Croach stared at the disguised Jupiterian for a long moment. "Am I misinterpreting your primitive human social rituals or did you just engage me in a mouth-press of physical affection, Sparks Nevada?"
"What? No, you're definitely misinterpreting all over the place. It was some other... totally human thing. Way human. That happens when all these circumstances align. Geez, don't be culturally insensitive, dude."
Croach stared at him a long moment. "You seem more relaxed today, Sparks Nevada. Have you decreased your frankly dangerous levels of consumption of the stimulant designated caffeine?"
Jib patted him on the cheek. "Croach, you are adorbs. Never change. Now go on home and get some rest. You are gonna need it, buddy. Wink."
"I will mark a very slight reduction in my onus to you as I do so," Croach declared, but did not seem as certain as he might have been.
"Sure, whatever, that's probably a thing." Jib watched him leave, then shook his head. "I am so good at this, it's ridiculous. One hundred percent bananas."