[ SAMPLES ]
First Person:
[There's a scowl on Frol's face as he looks straight into the camera (which is sitting on something nearby, not held in his hands), taking a second to spit on the ground before he shouts:]
All right, I need to get one thing straight with you all: I like Terrans and all, but I didn't asked to be dragged onto your planet and I sure as hell don't need to be here when I have better fucking things to do.
Say whatever you want about not going home, but I got no choice but to leave and I'm not taking no for an answer!
[After a pause during which he waits for a response -- he's used to immediate answers, damn it! -- he picks a pebble up from the ground and throws it at the communicator, and although it doesn't do anything but make the video wobble a bit he still feels a little bit better. Enough to get him to speak at a more normal volume as he finishes up, at least.]
Right, anybody else here from the Galactic University exams? Hell, maybe this is part of the test, too.
Third Person:
"I said give me my food!"
There were an awful lot of things that Frol didn't like about being thrown onto some dirty, low-tech planet in the middle of an important test, but these stupid vending machines had to take the cake. You had to find exact change instead of swiping in a card, half of the food was stale or disgusting, and -- he had just learned -- sometimes the machine wouldn't even give you your fucking popcorn, instead taunting you with the way it dangled just so. But if there was one thing he had learned from years of studying... it was that everything that didn't want to listen to was worth kicking at least once.
Ignoring the stares of passers by, Frol gave a firm kick to the side of the machine, feeling a bizarre sort of victory when he noticed the sign on it that specifically told him not to do so. After a few more kicks, though, it was very clear that nothing was going to budge, he started to feel more silly than he did victorious. One firm slap later, he flopped down onto the ground next to the machine. "I can't believe I'm getting my ass kicked by something that's built to feed me," he muttered, suddenly glad that the supermarket didn't have any weird buttons and springs that got stuck at random. "What kind of a man'm I when I can't even get a big black box to listen?"
Talking to the thing wouldn't help, he had learned that much after setting his shirt on fire while trying to figure out if ovens on Terra were voice-activated, and it didn't seem like there was any way to reach up into the machine, so for a few minutes he just glared at it and tried not to imagine anybody from back on The White laughing at him. He was just starting to consider how to open the thing without anybody who cared noticing when he realized just what might happen with a little extra coaxing. The bag was hanging by just a little bit, after all, and the springs that held the food were... yeah.
Frol was glad that he didn't have much to spend money on besides food as he dropped another few coins into the slot. "Gotcha!" he said, grinning in victory when the machine gave him not one, but two bags of cheesy popcorn. If it was possible for popcorn to look more beautiful than usual, it certainly did right now, orange against the clear blue sky as Frol threw piece after piece into his mouth. Victory was beautiful indeed, even if it was a pointless victory.