ArchivedLogs:On The Case

On The Case
Dramatis Personae Doug, Hive
In Absentia	2013-09-03 '
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Tuesdays around Geekhaus are always quite full of people, though with Jax and Micah both out /Dragon*Conning/ and Dusk vanished for the evening it's slightly quieter this week than it usually is. Also, /definitely/ less full of delicious food, a terribad assortment of junk food and pizza in lieu of his usual home-cooked meals and baked goods. Though there's still gaming going on in the living room and bedroom, Hive is at the moment taking a break to ransack his kitchen, hand lingering over a beer bottle in the fridge for a /long/ moment before he opts for a Bawls instead. He's dressed in usual slouchy fashion, a black t-shirt reading 'Resistance is futile (if <1 ohm)' and old faded and tattered jeans. His expression is vacant enough it looks half like he might have had a few too many beers already, if not something stronger, eyes glassy and unfocused though he seems to manage just fine in navigating his kitchen. Uncapping energy drink. GULP. Doug is only fairly new to the regular game, although he's been turning up more frequently since he installed the security systems. Which is to say, the last two game nights in a row. Although he was a bit late arriving tonight, breathless and bearing some of the pizza replacing Jax's home-cooking, he quickly immersed himself in the games and the seemingly complicated rules some of them seem to have. Now, like Hive, he's taking a break, padding from the board game in the living room into the kitchen. While his attire is no less geeky than the telepath's -- a pair of snug, frayed jeans and a blue t-shirt with a picture of the Serenity in a mason jar on the chest -- he's somewhat perkier as he comes into the kitchen. "Hey, Hive!" he says, moving to open the refrigerator and snag a bottle of Bawls for himself. His gaze drifts over the other man as he lets the door swing shut, and he frowns. << Damn. He looks rough. >> "You okay? You look a bit beat." Hive's eyes do not move, when Doug passes him; they don't focus on Doug when he speaks, either, just fixed blankly ahead. His /mind/ rivets, though, brushing up against Doug's in a fuzzy blanketing /press/ of attention that settles heavily against Doug's mind for a moment, and then withdraws slightly. << Just got our ass handed to us in Power Grid, >> he answers, << that kind of defeat takes a /toll/. How you holding up? >> Doug's mind, when Hive presses against it, is a buzzy field of light and information, much of it computer-related, although there's a fair amount that's dedicated to who /exactly/ might have done in Mr. Body, and where and how they might have accomplished it -- though Professor Plum seems to be in the clear. "Oh, man, that sucks," Doug says, with a sympathetic tug of his mouth and thoughts. "Maybe you should try Jenga or something, next. Level the playing field." He wrinkles his nose. "Although, after last week, I'm not so sure that one friend of Flicker's isn't a telekinetic. /No one/ can balance that much on one Jenga stick." He uncaps his drink, and takes a swig. "I'm doing all right," he says, waving his bottle at the living room. "But I think I suck at Clue." << We're not allowed to play Clue, >> Hive admits with a quiet brush of amusement under the echoing myriad-voiced cadence of his words. << Maybe something co-op next. Forbidden Island. Something Flicker can't /crush/ in. >> The glass bottle clicks against his teeth as he takes a gulp. << We could tell you who did it, >> he offers helpfully. << -- Or -- technically, could tell you who /didn't/. But it's less fun when you know all of everyone's hand. >> "Well, sure," Doug says, grinning broadly. "I bet all those games are boring for you -- Hangman, Trivial Pursuit..." he chuckles, and shakes his head as he tips the bottle to his lips again. "If you want, one week, I can totally pimp out your entertainment center, and we could have an insane dungeon-crawler video game party." He lifts his eyerbrows. "I know a guy who'll let me borrow some big HD tvs. He owes me a favor." An image of a skater-type in a Best Buy shirt floats across the teenager's mind. "That's a pretty level playing field for everyone," he says. "Even /I/ can't make a PS3 do what I tell it through a game controller." << Make a killing in poker, though. >> Hive slumps back further against the counter, eyes still blankly directed at the wall ahead of him. << Shit, yeah. Telepathy doesn't fuck up video games. I only /wish/ I could do in Eve what I do in poker. >> His lips twitch, for a very brief moment, not quite resolving into a proper smile. << Video Game Night'd be fun, though. You ever seen Jax play video games? Don't think the dude even knows /how/ to hold a controller. >> Doug grins. "I do pretty good in poker, too," he says, closing one eye in a wink. "You'd be amazed how many tells are in a person's body language. Even the biggest professionals have their little tics they're not even aware of." There's a flare of delight when Hive seems to agree to his idea, and his grin ramps up a notch. "Oh, man. If I were the kind of technopath who could affect machines from a distance, I would /so/ kill at the arcades. I don't even know if I'd feel guilty about it." The image of Jax with a controller is pretty amusing; even more so in his head, where Jax wields it like a club, banging it on the coffee table. "The solution for Jax is simple. Lego games. They're weirdly insane fun, you can't die, and there's like /two/ buttons to mash." << Tried him on Katamari, you don't even really -- need buttons there but he. Kind of. Failed hard. >> Hive's fingers tighten around his bottle, and it taps against his teeth again. << Knew a technopath like that. Wasn't really into video games, though. Or -- fun. At all. >> Doug's nose wrinkles. "Well, yeah. I can see that. You do have to work both joysticks at once. But it's not like that's a real steep learning curve." He frowns at Hive's physical reaction, and there's a push of curiosity directed at the telepath. "Some people aren't into having fun," he says slowly, watching Hive's face as he speaks. "Different strokes for different folks, and balance, and all of that." His brow furrows, and his mental rolodex spins for a new, less reactive topic. Then a bright and cheery face flashes across his memory. "Oh! Hey! I can tell you. I met someone kind of famous the other day! Do you know who Kaori Takahashi is? X-Games and Olympic athlete?" He lifts his eyebrows, the picture in his mind sharpening for the telepath's benefit as he takes another swig and continues. "She was in the skate park, and we hung out for a while. I think I might do a website for her." << Don't think he really remembered how to -- be human. Some mutations -- >> Hive exhales slowly, a soft push of breath that approximates laughter. << -- Really fuck with your head. >> His mind pushes back against Doug's at the face, and after a moment withdraws. << Sports. >> It's just one blank syllable, followed by a flush of amusement, << Maaan, do we look like we know shit about sports? Should tell Dusk and Flicker, though, they watch the X-Games religiously. Didn't know you did web design, that's like a whole different. >> This trails off for a moment into silence; it takes a bit before Hive remembers to finish vaguely: << Thing. >> "Oh," Doug says, at the information on Hive's friend, and his mouth presses into a flat line. "Sorry to hear that. I can only imagine what it's like." A thought occurs to him, and he holds up a finger. "And that's all I /want/ to do," he warns, with a surge of teasing amusement. "So, no demonstrations needed, thanks." There's the smallest of winces when Hive's mind pushes back, but his grin broadens at Hive's response. "Hey, she does music, too," he says. "She does some killer electronic stuff. That's what she needs a website for. Tour dates and shit." His brow furrows at Hive's surprise, and he nods slowly. "Oh, yeah. It's how I make my half of the rent. I mean, it doesn't take me anytime at all to build them, especially if the client knows what they want. I also do IT work for a lot of them. Like a family computer doctor making house calls and bringing new websites into the world." << Web design is just -- much different. Than programming. Which is -- much different than IT -- We thought -- >> Hive doesn't elaborate on what he thought, though, taking another sip of his drink instead. << Music. Is she good? You should tell -- >> A image of Flicker whispers through Doug's mind. << Bet he'd go. To a show. Performance. Whatever. >> "I do it all," Doug says, with a lift of his shoulders. "I've been doing web design since I was ten -- my abilities just make the process faster, now. And programming...well, it's the same kind of deal. And I do IT just because --" he presses his lips together as he rolls through his reasons, and comes up with the most simple. "I like working on stuff like that. Building computers and shit. You should see the one I built for this one guy." There's the briefest flicker of Murphy across the teenager's mind, along with a laptop that postively /glows/ with amazingness in his memory. When Hive shifts back to Kaori, the teen grins. "Oh, yeah," he says. "I'm a little fussy with music, especially club stuff, but I like her. And he'd probably love her. I'll ask him when we get back in there. You should come, too." << Huh. Neat. >> Hive's lips press together at the brief memory of Murphy, though, and he snorts. << That asshole. >> It's not really an irritable 'that asshole', though. Just blunt fact. Murphy. Asshole. << Didn't know he even knew how to turn a computer /on/. -- Should come -- >> He frowns uncertainly. << Eh. Crowds. >> He straightens, though, swigging at the bottle again. << We'll see. Bet the others'll be down though -- well. If she goes any place that'd let Dusk /in/. Who the fuck even knows, these days. >> "Oh, he's a total asshole," Doug says, with a wide grin. "Totally hot, but a complete jerk. I totally want him." No need to hide such sentiments, since Hive would just pick up on the rush of heat at the memory of teasing the older man. "I don't think it was for him, though. He did seem a little caveman-like with it. But, I think I made it idiot-proof. It's at least sturdy." He chuckles, wincing a bit at the idea of Hive in crowds. "We can figure something out," he promises. "Even if I just have to suck it up and hire her to play on our roof for a night." His eyebrows pop, and he smiles. "Oh! Hey. That's not a bad idea, actually -- hey!" he shouts, his gaze catching movement in the living room. "No peeking at my cards!" He flashes Hive an apologetic grin as he slides out of the kitchen, ghosting his hand along the telepath's arm. "Don't forget how to have fun," he murmurs, then whips his head back towards the Clue game as he charges in that direction. "What did I /just/ say, you cheaters?" Professor Plum is on the case!