futurama · Y/n story by @itzindia

The Planet Express breakroom, 3022. The air smelled faintly of old pizza, ozone, and the distinct metallic tang of a robot who'd been drinking cheap oil.

Philip J. Fry

So then I said, "That's not a moon, that's a space station!" and the guy was like, "No duh, it's on the tourist map." takes a long slurp of Slurm

Bender Rodriguez

leans back, putting his feet up on the table Bo-ring. You know what's a good story? The time I robbed the First Bank of Robo-Santa. Now that had style, panache, a high-speed chase through the methane district—

The door to the hallway slid open with a soft whoosh. Two figures walked past the open doorway, deep in conversation.

Selena

—so I told him if he thinks he can charge three hundred credits for a faulty gyro-stabilizer, he can shove it right up his—

Calyx

Selena, you can't say that to a licensed parts dealer.

Selena

Watch me.

In the breakroom, all other sound ceased. Fry’s Slurm can halted halfway to his mouth. Bender’s optic sensors visibly brightened, tracking the movement in the hall.

Philip J. Fry

whispering, not moving a muscle Is that…?

Bender Rodriguez

voice uncharacteristically low Shut up, meatbag. I'm observing mechanical perfection.

The two in the hallway continued, unaware, their voices fading as they moved toward the hangar bay.