'cause dirt on you is dirt on me, and we both know our hands ain't clean
For a moment, Calan could only stare at the little blue face Fern had drawn in the wet sand, watching it wink and soften at the edges as the tide worked at undoing it. Bioscience, apparently. He didn’t know what it meant either, but the fact that it made the sea glow when you touched it seemed like fairly solid evidence that Fern had got the important part right.
Carlo’s proposal had all the clean, uncomplicated logic of a proper investigation, and Calan’s grin came quick as he looked sideways at his twin. "We can each do it," he decided. Given they were identical, it was the sort of detail that made their results much more official. Before anyone could introduce needless concerns about rules or poison, Calan bent down and snatched up a stringy green bit from the shallows. It shone faintly where the water slid off it, which was encouraging enough to outweigh the fact that it looked like something a fish might have sneezed out. He stuffed it into his mouth and began to chew with all the seriousness of someone making a meaningful sacrifice for science.
The taste hit him almost immediately; his face screwed up so hard it felt like it might stay that way, salt and bitterness coating his tongue while the seaweed resisted every bite with damp, rubbery determination. Still, he kept at it, chewing and chewing until he could finally force the whole miserable mouthful down. Then, straightening with a purposeful little swallow, Calan tipped his chin up toward doctor Fern and opened his mouth wide. "Aaaaaaaaaah," he announced, holding perfectly still for inspection.
Calan is on the beach with Carlo and Fern!
Carlo’s proposal had all the clean, uncomplicated logic of a proper investigation, and Calan’s grin came quick as he looked sideways at his twin. "We can each do it," he decided. Given they were identical, it was the sort of detail that made their results much more official. Before anyone could introduce needless concerns about rules or poison, Calan bent down and snatched up a stringy green bit from the shallows. It shone faintly where the water slid off it, which was encouraging enough to outweigh the fact that it looked like something a fish might have sneezed out. He stuffed it into his mouth and began to chew with all the seriousness of someone making a meaningful sacrifice for science.
The taste hit him almost immediately; his face screwed up so hard it felt like it might stay that way, salt and bitterness coating his tongue while the seaweed resisted every bite with damp, rubbery determination. Still, he kept at it, chewing and chewing until he could finally force the whole miserable mouthful down. Then, straightening with a purposeful little swallow, Calan tipped his chin up toward doctor Fern and opened his mouth wide. "Aaaaaaaaaah," he announced, holding perfectly still for inspection.
Calan is on the beach with Carlo and Fern!
if it all goes wrong and we end up on the news, if you go down I'm goin' down too
