Logs:We won't get cocky / that would take having some faith / in, well, anyone.

We won't get cocky / that would take having some faith / in, well, anyone.
Dramatis Personae Natsumi, Roscoe
In Absentia Horus, Hive, Scott, Tian-shin, Sriyani, Nahida, Joshua, Quentin	2024-09-04 "I dunno. Would you?"
Location <XAV> Batcave - Residence Hall
Accessible by sliding pole or elevator from the rec room above, the dormitory basement is austere, with concrete walls and industrial lighting that throws the exposed steel and ductwork into stark relief. Along one wall is a row of computers with a massive holographic interface, the chassis detailed in blue and yellow, with swivelling office chairs upholstered in black leather. Branching off from the computer room is a well-outfitted training gym. Guarding the door to the students' garage next door is an enormous animatronic T-rex, periodically wagging its tail or yawning. In contrast to the austere surroundings, Natsumi is a vivid splash of color down here, bold in a t-shirt in wavy unevenly sized diagonal rainbow stripes and wide flood-length yellow jeans, chunky boots, hair pinned up in two messy buns and her accessories a typically eclectic colorful mix probably picked up from some range of crafts fairs. She's been making a slow circuit of the basement, jotting some notes on a reMarkable tablet tucked in the crook of her arm, but has stopped now at one of the holographic consoles. Her eyebrows are hiked up, her mouth scrunched and pulling to one side, as she flicks at it tentatively. Just as tentatively enters her XS login. Frowns. Roscoe is harassing the RoboT-rex, ill-advisedly poking his fingers at the pinchy joints trying to provoke it into a better idle animation. He hasn't gotten a haircut in a while, so his head is getting a little shaggy, its natural color starting to show through the orangey-blond, which looks somehow worse than the bleach job and clashes weirdly with both his skin tone and his traffic-orange shirt. He's still on Fido's other side, out of view, as the holographic display unfurls, but he pokes his head around the dinosaur to say, loud but cheerful, "I came here as soon as I found out about it and then I couldn't think of anything I wanted to look up." "How about, 'why is there a Batcave in the basement'?" Natsumi's face is still scrunched up in confused disapproval, which at least makes it look more or less flatly the same when she peers over at Roscoe and his shaggy orange hair and not specifically critical of this. She does give just a very small extra huff, though. "Or, 'why did we have to come back to school but not the teachers'? What exactly am I supposed to be doing about trig or AP Chem?" She cranes a little forward on her toes, and purses her lips before turning back to the computer. "I could look you up a hairstylist, if you want." She is, in fact, already On This. "I asked for a Batcave. I didn't think we were gonna get it or I would have asked for something way more useful," Roscoe does not actually sound regretful about this as he crosses over to the computer, shuffling his feet. "Maybe the computer can teach us," he suggests. "It'll be like COVID all over again." He leans forward to peer at Natsumi's search, grinning. "I don't need a hairstylist, I think my mom would pay me to let her cut my hair in her bathroom. Thanks though." "This was your idea? I didn't know we got to make requests for bespoke Dorm Hall, how did that happen?" Natsumi is looking over at Roscoe now, kind of impressed. She does look briefly, vaguely puzzled at the COVID reference but breezes by this as she flops down into the actual seat at the console. "Is your mom here? I do think at least a real color would be a little kinder to your complexion." She is pulling up the course offerings now, scrolling pensively. "Kinda hope it's the computer, a lot of substitutes are garbage. Oh my gosh, have you seen the new photography teacher?" Roscoe shrugs. "The architect lived here a while," he says, then, very confidently, "you've heard of him. The raid team's teep. Angel of mind-death." He leans slowly on the computer desk, elbows locked and head sinking between his shoulders as he watches her scroll. "Driving distance?" he says, as though this is basically the same thing as his mom being here. He shifts his weight, then, "You know they're scraping the bottom of the barrel when they have to hire a bird," he says. "How's the bird gonna hold a camera?" "Wait, seriously?" Natsumi looks around the room again, her expression a little more inscrutable now. She's no longer looking through the course offerings, instead scrolling back through many ignored and unread email updates on the status of the ongoing construction and then, after this, starting to google Jetsadayut Suphamongkhon. "Like a literal bird!" she's exclaiming, incredulously, as she tabs through several articles of acclaim. "I'm writing a profile on this bird-teacher for the Oracle you know it's going to be wild. Maybe actually showing up is where we're setting the teacher bar this year. I have to admit, I did not think Mr. Summers or Ms. Hua were going to be in the surprise-extended-vacation crowd but I guess you never know. Sriyani's got this insane theory it's all a big secret superhero test." "I would've seen it coming, Mr. Summers and Ms. Hua were both at Lassiter." Roscoe was definitely trying to read Natsumi's email, but now that she's just going through Hive's various accolades he seems rather less interested, pushing back from the desk to draw up his own holo-window, though he just leaves it on the login for now, tilting his head with a little squint. "You mean for us? Yeah, that is insane. They're getting kinda cocky, did you see they squared off with pirates?" This has an air of both hushed horror and strong jealousy. "Lassiter was not a vacation," Natsumi replies critically. She's pulled one knee up in the chair, and is frowning just as critically at some many-times-awarded library building in New England before dismissing the site in annoyance. "I would not work that hard if I was an insanely powerful telepath." This declaration comes with a hefty sigh somewhat out of proportion to the amount of days she will likely have to work hard in her life. She rests her chin on her knee, flicking back to consider the course offerings again. "I heard they totally whupped the pirates. Maybe they deserve to be a little cocky. You don't think the teachers got kidnapped by pirates, though? That'd be kinda wild." Roscoe wrinkles his nose -- "Who says they're on vacation?" he says, flumphing slouchily into his own swivel chair, swinging it sourly to face Natsumi again. "Naw, you get cocky and that's how they getcha," he says. "It'd be wild if Sriyani and Nahida got out of it and Joshua didn't," is this an insult to the M-Kids? Faith in Joshua? Maybe either/or, but whichever it is, it's leading him to conclude, "Probably unrelated." "Quentin's gonna be such a goner then." Natsumi is shooting a side-eye glance to Roscoe, mouth twisting up brief. "I guess I'll do Computer Science this term instead. That guy is here and he will definitely not let me be cocky. Her cheeks puff out briefly, and she pushes her chair sideways to face Roscoe. "So if they hare off to go looking for 'em are you gonna stay put?" Roscoe slowly swivels his chair back to face his own computer, finally finishes logging in, pulls up his own schedule. "I'm in one of his classes too," he says, though this doesn't come with any accompanying offer of study buddying. If he feels Natsumi looking at him now, he is doggedly ignoring it. "I dunno," he says. "Would you?" Natsumi exhales slowly, and swivels to regard the class list considerably longer than necessary, without actually making any new choices. "They can be very compelling," she says, somehow grudgingly. "I guess we'll see."