He liked this kid. Already. And no, that wasn't the childhood nostalgia talking, he was clearly...
Well, it wasn't like in the cartoons. He was a kid. An actual flesh-and-blood, mutant teenage boy, one that wasn't spouting catch phrases. So Rich went at this thing like he would've for any green, mutant teenager (and he'd met quite a few mutant teens in his life to draw from experience) and held out his hand.
Realizing it was the prosthetic one, which he was still worried about controlling correctly, he switched over to his left.
"What's your name, kid? Don't think I caught it yet." Acting like he knew it already would be creepy, "I'm Rich. Rich Rider. I also go by Nova."
Anyone willing to help him with subtle (or less-than-subtle) digs at alien dignitaries was okay in his book.
no subject
Well, it wasn't like in the cartoons. He was a kid. An actual flesh-and-blood, mutant teenage boy, one that wasn't spouting catch phrases. So Rich went at this thing like he would've for any green, mutant teenager (and he'd met quite a few mutant teens in his life to draw from experience) and held out his hand.
Realizing it was the prosthetic one, which he was still worried about controlling correctly, he switched over to his left.
"What's your name, kid? Don't think I caught it yet." Acting like he knew it already would be creepy, "I'm Rich. Rich Rider. I also go by Nova."
Anyone willing to help him with subtle (or less-than-subtle) digs at alien dignitaries was okay in his book.