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[wipedclean]

[The soldier is usually pretty stern, intimidating, all that jazz, but right now he's downright grumpy. And... snarly. Clearly he's not in a good mood.]

Why. The fuck. Are these fucking fireflies everywhere?

[Speaking of, here's one fluttering against his shoulder right now. His hand slams down on top of it, squashing it. He growls.]

They are getting in the way and they are making Steve forget he has to eat. Is there a way to stop them other than crushing them one by one?

Comments

[cowardley]

How many fireflies does he have? Do you know? [ The feeling increases the more she puts in the jar, that much she's noted so far. It's possible that too many and you start to lose interest in everything else. Or maybe they work like addiction.

Oh. That's not a thought train she wants to work down. An addiction to happy fireflies probably would not be a good thing for any of them, especially if it makes them forget to eat; they'd all die. ]

[wipedclean]

I can't count them. But it looks like a lot.

[They fly around so it's difficult to get a correct count.]

[cowardley]

Do you think you could convince him to release a few? It can't be good to have too many of them in the jar. [ For them, and Steve. ]

[wipedclean]

[He tilts his head. That's a good idea. Unfortunately he's not terribly persuasive.]

I could try.

[cowardley]

If it helps, tell him that too many fireflies in one jar can cause them to suffocate, even with holes in the lid. I don't think he would want anything bad to happen to them.

[wipedclean]

[He nods. That does help, he wouldn't have thought of it on his own, and Steve would be more likely to let a few go if he thought keeping them close was hurting them.]

Okay.

[cowardley]

Good luck, and tell me how it goes, when and if you can. [ you know, if you want to or anything. ]

[wipedclean]

[He nods shortly.]

Thank you. I will.