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evilbeej20/07/03
12:11 AM
Logfile from Sandbox.
It's been One of Those Days. A terribly botched Danger Room session, and while Squall still wont go /out/ with Jubilee for a beer, she's convinced him to let her pick some up on the way to one of their apartments for a much-needed Escape from Avalon (movie due out in December). She's waving her hands about wildly as they walk, the twelve-pack probably getting too-shaken by her gesturing. "Oh. my. god. Squall, like, if the damn Doc pulls that 'I am an ageless vampire therefore I know better than you just because' bullshit one more time I swear to God I'm going to fucking stake him. I mean, duh, ya'd think he'd keep in mind we took out Dracula 'fore acting like we're kids who don't have a clue."
Squall keeps pace with Jubilee, for the most part keeping silent and letting her vent her frustration. Presently, though, he pauses, sighing through his teeth and turning an irritated frown on Jubilee. "Give me that before you make the cans explode," he commands, holding a gloved hand out for the beer.
And for some strange reason - well, it's probably not all that strange, considering the completely thrown scale of the word here in New York City - there's a funny-dressed guy running up behind Squall and Jubilee. Voice /and/ footsteps. English. "I say! Would you two /please/ stop a moment? Did you say /Dracula/, miss?" He's a little out of breath, but it could have something to do with the fact that he's wearing a long brown coat with a fuzzy fur collar, and god help him a /bowtie/ with a suit and waistcoat underneath -- but at least he's running in *sneakers*. And he has a half-eaten apple in one hand and a briefcase in the other. "Dracula! You ran into him, then!" Skid to halt, looking expectant.
Jubilee hands the beer over, drawing another breath to continue her tirade when the geeky English guy dashes up. She blinks at him, looks him up and down twice, decides he's probably a professor or something with a 'paranormal' hobby his students snicker at behind his back, decides to throw him for a loop. "Um, yeah, like, ya could say that," she beams, all traces of irritation gone as she nods at Squall, "He chopped his head off."
Squall adjusts his grip on the twelve-pack, shifting to eye the oddly-dressed Englishman with a distinct edge of wariness. Jubilee's boasting just makes his frown deepen, and he rolls his eyes, letting out an inelegant snort. "D'you *mind?*"
All things considered, that's a fairly close approximation. The sad thing is that it's not what you'd call a paranormal /hobby/, and he doesn't actually have students. Apple forgotten except as a tool with which to gesture, he looks more excited still, gaze intense and curious. The frightening thing here is how much he could resemble another Englishman that both Jubilee and Squall are familiar with - black hair, blue eyes, scarecrow-thin, expressive face - except for the godawful clothes he wears. And the hair sticking up helplessly in front. "No!" he exclaims, eyes bright. "Not at all! That's an /excellent/ thing to have done; no one quite managed it when we were dealing with his lot several years ago -- I *say*," he says, gesturing with the apple, blinking and taking a step back. "/Are/ the two of you from Avalon? I must admit it's the devil to find, and I've an appointment with the headmaster in an hour..."
Oh boy. The absentminded professor on speed. Excellent. Jubilee glances sideways at Squall, then back at the weirdo English dude. Okay, so she'd expected her explaination to shut him up, but noooooooo. He had to go and ask about Avalon. "Um, dude, it's, like, a huge building, y'know? Here," she turns around back the way they came so she can point, "lookit, ifya jus' head down this street f' 'bout three blocks 'til ya getta a newstand with some /seriously/ bad coffee," two guesses as to who gets his coffee there every morning, "thenya takea right an' go f' another few blocks an' cross th' street t' th' big building that says 'Avalon' on it. Th' dude in th'l lobby'll directcha t' the school."
No further commentary from Squall. Instead he just settles the beer securely under his arm and eyes the Englishman with an expression of unique doubt, one eyebrow subtly cocked. It's the sort of look one reserves for people they're not entirely sure they should speak to, lest their enthusiastic insanity be somehow contagious.
"Brilliant!" cheers Alistaire, raising his apple in the air in salute, then suddenly recalling it's the kind of thing you're supposed to eat, and hey, it's starting to turn brown. He takes a big bite of it and says around it, eyebrows up, "Jufft ou' off curioffity, d'you do fingks 'ike fight Dracu'a fair'y often? I'd 'ike to interfew th' two'f you, fee wha' I can't--" somewhat painful swallow of apple-bite, resulting in a rather comical wince, "--find in the way of crossreferencing some of the magic-related encounters with similar patterns of behavioral operation and visible energy signatures in documented and provable scientific incidents..."
Jubilee's eyes start to cross after he swallows the apple and he switches from slur to Hank Language. "umm. Like, whatever." She shrugs, glancing at Squall dubiously. "If you, like, hangout at th' school or whatever, we're usually 'round some." And go away, dude, you're scaring her. Not only was that HankSpeak, she didn't even understand what he /meant/.
That raised brow of Squall's quirks noticeably higher at that rush of technobabble. "I will not," he says, very bluntly, "even pretend to know what the hell you just said."
"Oh - oh terribly sorry. Simply that there are fascinating similarities between magic and science, especially here and now - in New York City, with all the immigrants showing up from alternate dimensions. Bit like Clarke's Law, d'you see?" Enthuse, enthuse. He's a bubbly, bubbly science geek. Waving the briefcase around briefly, Alistaire grins brightly and leans in slightly - it's not uberclose, it's just conspiratorial, "Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic." Straightening again, overly pleased, he takes another bite of his apple. The hair that's weirdly punk in front sways slightly in the breeze. "I'll be /fure/ to 'ook th' two of you up. Fank you /fo/ much for--" chew, swallow "--all your help!" He starts walking purposefully off in entirely the wrong direction, then pauses and glances back. "By the way, Dr Alistaire Stuart, at your service."
Blink. Blink blink. Blink blink blink. "Umm. Yeah. Whatever. I dont /do/ science an' stuff," she says with a cheerful grin, shifting her weight so that she's slightly between Squall and the Absent Professor, who she's now determiend is actually on crack, when the latter leans closer. Yes, well, with Squall and strangers you can never be too careful. She waves after him when he goes, only belatedly realizing-- oh, good, he turned around. "Um, yo! Prof," she seriously doubts he's a medical doctor, "th' Avalon Building's the /other/ way!"
Squall stares after Alistaire, brows lifted in an expression of vague bafflement, in spite of the translation into normal English. When the older man breezes off - in the wrong direction - his free hand comes up slowly and deliberately to press his leather-coated palm against his scarred brow, in that universal hand signal for "d'oh!"
No - he's a Doctor of Weird Science. No really. He really is. There's a better name for it, but he really, really is. His eyebrows go straight up at Jubilee's statement, and he blinks, looking back over his shoulder, then looking in the direction Jubes is pointing, and he looks a little sheepish. "Ah! Ah, quite right, thank you, yes. Be seeing you!" he calls back, then starts off again, this time in the proper direction. Yes - there is a bounce to his step.
Jubilee sneaks a look up at Squall. "Dude, that was weird. Wanna take bets on whether or not he getsa job?" The Doctor of Too-Big Words on the right path, she turns to start walking again. They still have to pick up takeout, after all.
Squall adjustists his grip on the beer, settling its weight against his shoulder now, and tipping his head toward it when he says laconically, "Twelve-pack says he does. Are we going now, or did you wanna follow that guy and make sure he doesn't get lost again?"
Two poses in and Stuart had me. This is going to hurt.
