Work Text:
Croach paused, a finger poised upon the page. “That is entirely inaccurate,” he commented to the unborn younglings to which he was reading. “Sparks Nevada--”
Sparks sat up from where he’d been manically polishing the table legs. “What, Croach? Hi. Yeah. What?”
“I was not addressing you, Sparks Nevada, merely continuing to read this novel by Rebecca Rose Rushmore aloud to our brood.”
“Aw, please don’t say brood. You know what? Whatever. But really, please stop reading that. Or… don’t. I don’t know.”
“You possess no other satisfactory reading material.”
“What? I have, like, so many books of bylines and municipal code.”
“Those volumes will not educate our children in the nuances of human english or the rituals of socialization, Sparks Nevada,” Croach informed him reproachfully.
“What, yer teachin’ ‘em in there?” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Huh.”
“This novel is not my optimum choice. I would prefer Bushwackers of Neptune, or possibly Showdown at Jupiter Creek should the former be unable to be located.”
“You, uh, want me to go find a copy of one for ya? Because I totally could. Go and do that. Right now.”
“I am under onus to you for your generosity, but you will be unable to obtain a copy as all retail establishments are closed for the evening.”
“Tomorrow then? I’m not doing anything tomorrow. That I know of. Unless you need me to do something…?”
“I would be under further onus to you for acquiring higher quality reading material. The protagonist in this novel is unlikable.”
“Ain’t the protagonist me in that one?”
“Yes, Sparks Nevada. I am going to continue to read aloud and will not address you further. Sparks Nevada dismounted his rocketsteed, dropping down onto the red sands of Mars--which we designate G’loot Praktaw--”
“No, we don’t. It’s called Mars!” Sparks broke in.
“Sparks Nevada!”
“What? They’re… y’know… half regular, too.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought them through, and once they were out, well… There they were.
“I will place you under onus if you interrupt me further.”
“Oh, no, onus,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, fine, I got cleanin’ to do, anyway. This place is a mess.” Sparks fiddled with his polishing rag for a few seconds, mouth set in a hard line. Croach started reading again, something about the sky instead of him, and it was almost...
Deliberately, Sparks went back to cleaning.