“Don’t panic! I’m right here. The radio com is still on.”

“Well, you coulda warned me before you cycled the lock. It’s… disconcerting.”

“It’s not. It’s a precaution.”

“A precaution? Against what?”

“Did I say precaution? I meant, procedure.”

“Fine! Whatever. I’m here. In the airlock. With my mop. Now what?”

“Mop up the gelatinous thing in the corner.”

“Gelatinous?”

“Yeah… well, sounds better than proteinaceous.”

“Protein…?”

”...aceous. Proteinaceous. That’s what the computer reads. More to the point, it looks like so much grey Jello, thus—“

“Gelatinous. Check. Got it.”

“You got it?”

“I got it. Gelatinous.”

“Don’t be a moron. Did you get it?”

“Ah… that’d be a negative.”

“A negative?”

“Affirmative.”

“Don’t play games with me rocket-boy… did you mop up that puddle of goo or what?”

“Er… that goo. Would it, ya know… wiggle?”

“Possibly.”

“Maybe even, shimmer?”

“Um. Yeah… it might. Just mop it up will ya?”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“It’s on your side of the airlock door.”