[He talks smoothly and at length in an interesting way. Most cured humans don't - possibly can't - extemporize for long on something that's not of particular, personal interest. They have to pause for thought more. Either Ian has a special interest in intoxicants, which, she doesn't judge unless it becomes a problem, or he's smarter or at least more lingual than most of the people she knows. It's a little unsettling, even though Mops has known all her life that cured humans score lower across the intellectual board than their predecessors.
Finally he does pause and make space for a reply. Perversely, she decides to take her time about it - if she tries to talk like he does, she'll fumble. Fortunately, the fate of humanity, even if it depresses her, is one of her deep-held interests.]
Ahh. Well. [Mops sits up straighter and stretches, popping her shoulder joint - it's displaced again - back into position with a louder, more alarming noise than the traditional crackle of joints.] That will take a minute. Essentially - about a hundred and fifty years back, humanity destroyed itself. A scientist created something that killed at least half of the people it infected and left the ones who survived changed. We call those and their descendants 'feral humans'.
They have black blood instead of red. Their hands are large, with nails like claws, and their teeth are long and sharp. They have a permanent - [Doc supplies her the word when she hesitates] - conjunctivitis that makes the whites of their eyes black, and otherwise their eyes are always blue. Ferals are attracted to warm flesh, though they'll eat anything, and can't use tools or language. They're like animals, but almost unkillable.
[He's probably noticed at least a few of these things: her tongue and gums are gray without a trace of pink, her teeth are strange, her sclera are gray except for her oddly bright blue irises, her hands are big and her nails have the look of heavier structures cut down small.]
no subject
Finally he does pause and make space for a reply. Perversely, she decides to take her time about it - if she tries to talk like he does, she'll fumble. Fortunately, the fate of humanity, even if it depresses her, is one of her deep-held interests.]
Ahh. Well. [Mops sits up straighter and stretches, popping her shoulder joint - it's displaced again - back into position with a louder, more alarming noise than the traditional crackle of joints.] That will take a minute. Essentially - about a hundred and fifty years back, humanity destroyed itself. A scientist created something that killed at least half of the people it infected and left the ones who survived changed. We call those and their descendants 'feral humans'.
They have black blood instead of red. Their hands are large, with nails like claws, and their teeth are long and sharp. They have a permanent - [Doc supplies her the word when she hesitates] - conjunctivitis that makes the whites of their eyes black, and otherwise their eyes are always blue. Ferals are attracted to warm flesh, though they'll eat anything, and can't use tools or language. They're like animals, but almost unkillable.
[He's probably noticed at least a few of these things: her tongue and gums are gray without a trace of pink, her teeth are strange, her sclera are gray except for her oddly bright blue irises, her hands are big and her nails have the look of heavier structures cut down small.]