Logs:Midnight Oil

Midnight Oil
Dramatis Personae Blink, Flicker
In Absentia	2019-05-05 "If I did somehow manage it, Jane would kill me anyway."
Location <NYC> Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most *distinctive* new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. It's well past midnight, and though elsewhere in the city there may be partying and revelry, the clinic is still and quiet except for the overnight staff. A spark of purple light swirls out into an oval portal in a corner of the security room, just long enough for Blink to step through before it vanishes again. She's wearing a half-length black cape with purple and pink satin trim, generous hood pulled up, a dark purple tunic with the same trim underneath and black pants with legs so wide they move like a skirt around her slouchy purple boots. She pushes her hood back and waves, her long magenta-and-black hair underneath is braided loosely but neatly into a herringbone braid that hangs over one shoulder. "Sorry it took me a while," she says, though it's only been maybe five minutes since her last text. "There was Drama in the queue at the deli." Apparently Drama did not deter her from her mission, though. From under one pointed flap of her cape she produces a matching shoulder bag, and from that a stream of junk food: pistachios, brownie crisps, jerky, dill pickle chips, and a couple bottles of Orangina. "Hm?" Flicker glances up with a start from where he's been sitting, laptop and textbook and notebook spread in front of him. He's dressed in the neatly pressed red and black uniform of all the Clinic's security staff, his arm a matte black tentacle with a subtle veining of dark metallic red swirled smokelike over the surface, visible in some lights. The arm is already starting to unfurl -- its sleek rounded tip beginning to blossom open -- and just as quickly closing back into an inoffensive smooth nub. "-- Ohhey. Thanks." His eyes are wide, dark shadows underneath. On the bank of television monitors behind him the clinic looks quiet. A few night-owl researchers still in the labs. A few other guards -- down in the lobby, out front having a smoke. A patient sleeping in one of the not-actually-patient rooms. "You're way faster than /any/ delivery. What kind of drama?" Blink glances at Flicker's tentacle arm as it subsides, brows wrinkling though she doesn't look /frightened./ "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you." She takes off her cape and drapes it over a vacant chair before rolling it over and sitting down across from Flicker. "A drunk guy was mad that they didn't have Dr. Pepper 10, and then got madder when the clerk thought he meant /diet/ Dr. Pepper." She shrugs skinny shoulders, looks at Flicker, then at his books. "I also have Gosu, if you feel like taking a break from studying. Even if I'm not /much/ challenge..." "Not your fault." Flicker's cheeks flush slightly pink, his head dipping. "Wait, is there a big difference? They're both -- light, right? Is that a difference worth anger?" This time when his arm extends it's a deliberate thing, telescoping only a little so that he can pinch the bag of chips. Draw them close. He looks at the books, too. His brows knit. "Oh, wow. It's tempting." He bites down on his lip, frowning at his work. The tip of his arm opens back up -- just a little. A quick snip opens the bag of chips neatly. "I can take a break, right? No. I should actually finish." "Apparently diet soda is for girls, and Dr. Pepsi 10 is /not/ diet because it has...ten whole calories?" Blink throws up both her hands in surrender. "The clerk seemed pretty unmoved. I guess she's used to 2 a.m. drunk guy logic." Blink tears open the bag of pistachios and pulls out a handful of nuts. "If you're finishing up a chapter or something, I can hang around and you can trounce me at weird goblin warfare /after/ you're done studying? Positive temptation and all?" "Ohhh." Flicker nods slowly along with this explanation. His leg bounces restlessly as he plucks out a small handful of chips. Munches one. "I'm not sure that's just drunk guy logic. I think that's marketing. Just. /Guy/ logic. Unfortunately." Shrug. The bouncing calms as he looks at his computer. Swallows. "Um." His fingers curl a little tighter, stopping when the chips he's been loosely holding start to crunch into crumbs. "Right, yeah. No that would be. Good, we should --" He crams the rest of the chips into his mouth, swiveling back towards the desk. "Huh." Blink's frown pulls at her facial markings. "I /do/ remember some ridiculous Dr. Pepper adverts going on about how they're not for women. I guess it worked because I totally forgot what product it even was." She dumps a handful of pistachios into her mouth and twists open her soda for a sip, then curls her legs up onto the seat, launching a game on her phone to keep herself occupied in the meantime. "That's uncannily effective. Antimemetic advertising." Flicker's lips quirk, but briefly. He draws his computer closer, turning his attention back to his textbook. For a while there's quiet. Mostly. The tapping of his fingers against the keyboard. A quiet whir-click as the end of his arm spins open and closed. Open and closed. There's a faint glow from within it. Eventually a burning smell, a small but growing patch of desk seared dark where the prosthetic not!hand fidgets. Perhaps Blink is too preoccupied with her game at first to notice, but eventually she sniffs. Frowns, sniffs again. Sets her phone down and looks around. When she localizes the source of the burning, her already unnatural green eyes go disturbing wide. "Flicker, right arm!" is about all she gets out as she leaps out of her chair and heads for the fire extinguisher (though she does not actually /use/ it just yet). Flicker's eyes dart reflexively to the security camera monitors, first, at Blink's warning. He looks down a moment later, his own eyes widening. The claw-tip of his arm splays out (thankfully not still ignited, this time) against the burned circle on the desktop. He pats at it after with his sleeve, frowning at the slight singeing on the fabric of his neat uniform. His other hand rubs against his brows, returning -- a little shakily -- to the keyboard. "Sorry." For a moment he just returns to his work -- before looking back up abruptly at Blink. The fire extinguisher. His cheeks darken again. "Oh -- gosh. /Sorry/. I -- um." His brows knit. He looks down at the desk. Back at the computer. "Maybe. You should go. Sorry. I just. Might not be -- I have a lot of..." He rubs at his brows again. "Maybe we should. Play a thing. Later." Once it's apparent the scorching isn't about to erupt into open flame, Blink returns the extinguisher to its bracket, blushing ab it herself. Her "sorry" is almost but not quite in time with his first one. She returns to her chair but doesn't sit down. Leans against the side of the desk by the pile of snacks. "I'll go if you want me to, but I'm worried because you're...slightly setting things on fire without realizing?" She bites her lower lip, looking more closely at Flicker. "Sorry," Flicker says again, the claw end of his arm shuttering back closed. "I'm just. I didn't -- realize." He swallows. "Right. You just said that. I just mean. Exams are coming up and things are -- Sorry." He shakes his head quickly. "I didn't mean to worry you. Things have just been." He looks down at the burn on the desk. "I won't set the Clinic on fire. It's pretty fireproof in here. Promise." "I know." Blink's frown eases a little, but her smile is kind of thin and forced. "If you /were/ depriving yourself of sleep on purpose to worry /me/, that would be some dedication. Still..." She sighs, shakes her head. "You don't need me telling you to rest. I'm holding you to that promise, though." Reaching out, she rests her hand gently on his mechanical shoulder. For a moment it looks like she might leave it at that, but then she offers the other arm, too, raising her thin purple eyebrows slightly. "If I did somehow manage it, Jane would kill me anyway." Flicker's smile is a little wan. "I really appreciate the food. And the..." He trails off at the touch. Steps forward, folding Blink into a brief, if tight, hug, his breath coming out a little shaky before he lets go. "I'll owe you a game?" Blink squeezes tight, too -- stronger than most people would probably guess, looking at her. "She would try." Kind of /breezily/ considering they're discussing his boss murdering him. "At least one. I might collect /after/ your exams, though." Her smile comes a little easier now, and she drapes her cape herself, stepping out into the middle of the room where there's more space. Purple light expands out from her hands to envelope her. "Good luck," she says before the glow swirls into a portal to engulf her and wink out into a single point of light, then gone.