6
Seret woke them both with a start. Quark jumped up so fast that he didn't get a chance to see he was curled up on Pulse the entire night.
The rude awakening didn't dispel the slog that was Pulse's second awakening; they rubbed their eyes, stretching, noting the sounds this new body made, from the pops to the creeks.
"Sleep well?" She asked them both, but only Quark responded.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. Pulse wondered if he would realize at some point what he spent his night doing. The next thought was 'What would I tell him then?'
"Very good, we got some training on hand," Seret said. Now that she was out of the industrial orange glow of candles and iron, her pantsuit was brilliant white. It was a stark contrast to her jet-black hair and her bronze skin.
"Training?" Pulse groaned, slicking their hair back, huffing once more when their crowned cowlick refused to be tamed.
"After yesterday's fiasco, I thought it would benefit you two." She tossed Pulse a spare cigarette, then offered them a light. "McCarthy is falling asleep slowly, so there is some spare time to show you a few things. Come with me."
Quark bounced into action, yet Pulse felt the weight of sleep still heavy in their mind. As they took their first drags of smoke in the damp morning, they adjusted to reality.
The world began to morph once more. Flowers, trees, vines--Nature ate away at the world, consuming it in something rich and lively.
That smell, the roses that dotted thick green bushes was familiar to Pulse, though they could not name why.
As foreign as this world was, there was something that welcomed them.
Quark was quick with the questions; a healthy appetite for the curiosities around them. 'What is that? What is that smell? What can you tell me about this tree? Who are these people that are see-through?'
Pulse meant when they said he had a pleasant voice. Alto, like they mentioned—maybe he'd be a good musician as well if he were to hone that skill—as it was, it was soft and sweet.
Dreams of home began to fade.