“Woo, slow down you two,” Jazz laughed, scooping Footloose up as she passed him in the rec-room doorway; Slipstream had already dived for cover behind the nearest couch. “What are you doing?”
Footloose made a frustrated noise and wriggled in his arms. “Lemmego!”
Slipstream peeked out, saw she was captured, grinned, teleported up to Jazz’s shoulder and dramatically stuck a small round blue sticker to his sister’s nose, then was gone.
“Ja-azz!” Footloose squealed her frustration. “Making me loo-ose!”
Jazz quirked a brow, realising that the little femme was already covered in bright blue dots, mostly over her back and arms – and in her hands, she clutched a sheet of similar stickers, except these were a lurid shade of fluorescent pink. Aha. So, that explained the game. Stick labels to your twin without getting labels on you in return. It was frankly quite amazing it hadn’t turned into a sticky-dot-covered wrestling match, yet.
“Where’d you two troublemakers get them from?” Jazz wondered, amusedly.
Footloose gave him a guileless look. “Spike gave.”
“Ri-ight. Just like he ‘gave’ you that glue you used to stick Screamer’s data-pad to his desk?”
She giggled at his exaggeratedly-suspicious tone of voice, and headbutted his chest. “Down now please Jas?”
“Why, so you can coat more things in pink dots?”
“Not ‘more things’, only Seem.” She gave him her biggest, widest-eyed most appealing look.
“All right.” He caved in and lowered her to the floor, but kept hold of her arms, just for now. “If I find pink spots anywhere else, I’ll know who to tell the Police to arrest for graffiti, won’t I?”
Footloose sucked her fingers. “Ooh.”
He leaned closer and asked, more conspiratorially; “So who’s winning?”
She gave him a sneaky smile and patted her chest.
It was only once she’d finally vanished to find her twin that Jazz realised the backs of his arms had been coated in a sneaky layer of pink dots.
(...don't ask me where in my brain that sprang from. ¬_¬)