ArchivedLogs:Nothing Says Thanks Quite Like Kevlar

Nothing Says Thanks Quite Like Kevlar
Dramatis Personae Kisha, Ivan	2013-03-22 Kisha pays Ivan a visit on to deliver a message, and the two TALK. Also live cricket sacrifices.
Location Ivan and Peter's Dorm
The first thing one might notice upon entering this dorm room is the almost constant, low drone that emanates from almost a dozen terraria, situated mainly on and around one of the two desks present. Inside of them are plants, sand, bits of driftwood and a /lot/ of different insects and arachnids, all making their respective little noises. Krrt, chkk chkk. The other desk houses no such creatures, but it does have a laptop. There is a poster of a Dalek hanging next to a small television perked atop a few game consoles, a three-seater with a dark brown coffee table in front of it, two dressers and beds on the far side of the room. One is made quite neatly, the other... not so much. Books are strewn across pillow and sheets, mostly English and Russian-language. An even greater number is piled precariously next to the bed. Numerous postcards depicting well-known European and some Russian cities are taped to the wall above it. If there is any day that is usually particularly busy for Ivan, it is every other Friday. And though he's been taking breaks to periodically pay Peter a visit in the medbay, today is still one of THOSE Fridays and he has other responsibilities; Half of the dorm room is filled with all of his terraria - all in different shapes, sizes and contents - lined up in two neat rows. On top of them stand little plastic boxes, some of them filled with what look to be food pellets, yet others with... slightly more living contents. Crickets, mealworms, the sort of thing the plethora of different crawly inhabitants of those terraria would be glad to share a space with. A trash bag full of ex-terrarium decoration stands propped up in the doorway, keeping the door ajar. Ivan himself stands to the side of his pets, head angled slightly as he stares at a particularly blue tarantula that has sidled up against the glass of its housing. Who to feed first, who to feed first. The answer, it looks like, utterly escapes him. With the potential for a very lucrative technology exchange in the balance Kisha is being unusually dilligent in matters not connected with Science! To the extent she is risking entering the domain of 'The kid with way too many bugs'. "Hello is anyone there?" she asks, tapping her fist against the ajar door. "Preferably an anyone who is a person and not some multi-legged monstrosity which has been trained to talk." Her arrival outside also brings a strange smell, either she's trying out a very weird perfume or her hair has been on fire recently. Ivan's gaze flits up immediately at the sound of a voice near his door! Oh right, /other people/. What a perfect opportunity to procrastinate on picking a favourite and go answer the door instead. There's a few noises that suggest quite strongly that Ivan nearly trips over something on his way over to the door, before said door is pulled open far enough for Kisha to see the relative bug haven behind it. Oh, and Ivan, staring blankly at her with a twitch of a smile that is one part polite, one part inquisitive. A nod serves as what should probably, by all conventional social standards, probably be a verbal greeting. Yes hello I can talk but I am not a monstrosity. Kisha suffers a little eye twitch of distaste at her glimpse into the world of bugs. She glances left, then right and finally in Russian says "{I've been asked to pass on a message from a... I think a girl.. who found Peter hunting monsters in the sewer. Which is either a sign of how warped the world is or a really elaborate practical joke..}" The change in Ivan's expression comes on quickly, when Kisha starts in Russian. The blank stare turns into something much more focused, and his eyebrows go up as he listens. More engaged, more attentive. "Tatters?" He asks, lifting a hand to scratch idly at one of his cheeks before he, too, continues in Russian. "{There /was/ a monster. I wish it was a joke because it killed a bunch of people and it almost killed Peter. We found him in the sewers after something /else/ attacked him after the first monster. I swear, he must be some sort of villain-MAGNET.}" This isn't a bad thing, from the way he says it. Quite the opposite, though there is also concern mixed in with his tone. If nothing else, though, speaking in his own language has at least gotten him to say more than a few words at a time. "{What-- was the message? I was going to visit her but I have to find a gift and it is hard finding a gift for people you don't-- know.}" "{Well, you could chip in towards the body armour I agreed to make her?}" Kisha offers helpfully, taking a little step sideways to get the bugs out of her line of sight. She sticks with the Russian, although her accent is somewhat odd. "{I don't know the name 'Tatters' does Jill mean anything to you? About so high and obviously not a normal Human.}" She mimes Tatters-esque dimensions. "{Does he have any idea how dangerous the New York sewers are? Could you try talk some sense into him and make sure he doesn't go down there again?}" There is a pause, then she coughs holds out a scrap of paper. "{Oh yes the message. Well it was basically along the lines of 'can you email me to let me know how Peter is doing'. Because the last she'd heard he was really unwell and going to a hospital.}" Ivan straightens a little, contently. "{I can check how much money I have. I'd be glad to help her with anything she wants.}" He gives a thoughtful stare when Kisha explains, but his memory seems to fail him. Still, can't be that many people saving Peter from things underneath the city. "{He didn't /mean/ to be down there. I mean, he does go places he probably shouldn't, but then who decides where we should and...}" His attention seems to be caught by something off to the side for a moment. He clears his throat, somewhat meekly, before reaching to accept the scrap of paper. "{Of course! I'll send her an e-mail and also give it to Peter so he can thank her. He was very lucky to run into her.}" He smiles, apparently pretty happy about that turn of events. But then there's something else. Something that finally hits him, and makes his wrinkle his nose slightly. "{Are you... currently on fire?}" Kisha scratches her head, which quickly turns into a two handed head patting. "{Not anymore,}" she decides after a thorough check. "{Earlier today I may have got my hair caught in an open flame. Nothing unusual. You get a lot of sparks when you're trying to learn blacksmithing. Why do you ask?}" "{You're trying to learn /blacksmithing?}" Ivan replies, his face doing a worse job at betraying his level of Impressed than the fact that he's just forgotten to answer the previous question. "{Oh, that's right. I guess you'd have to, if you were making her /armour/.}" He takes a step back, before turning and heading back into the room to skirt past a few terrariums while picking up one of the smaller plastic boxes. He stops at a particularly large terrarium, the one with the blue tarantula. "{Do they teach it here?}" "{Oh, no you misunderstand me. The armour I'm sorting is going to be subdermal kevlar plates coupled with... it's a bit like a wind-sock only made from kevlar fibres. Not useful for anyone but a form shifting mutant but when that's your customer,}" Kisha explains in an excited rush. "{The blacksmithing is so I can make her some tools for saving people. Like the ones firefighters use although I am thinking of a few novel innovations for sewer spelunking. I sort of know what I'm doing, so I'm not bothering the teachers about it. Doubt any of them would even know how.}" There's a brief and thoughtful look from Ivan, as he fumbles carefully with a plastic lid. When he does finally manage to pry it open, the crickets inside of it sit oddly still within their mode of transportation. Considering what they are likely being transported to, anyway. "{Still. That's really great, to be able to just make that out of-- I assume, raw materials.}" He lowers himself to reach for the side of the blue spider's glass walls, sliding it open with his free hand. Almost immediately, the arachnid slips past the opening and makes its eight-legged way onto that hand. Kisha giggles. "{Oh don't be silly! I'm buying the kevlar from ebay,}" she points out. "{Second hand bullet proof vests.. I blew pretty much all my savings on them.. I also picked up... erm... some parts I thought might be helpful.... from... this is kind of gross... a crematorium.}" "{I mean it sounds a little weird,}" Kisha continues, wincing at the big spider. Icky! "{But they're designed to go inside a persons body and buying titanium or cobalt chrome as a raw material is horribly expensive. So for the scientist on a budget you have to cut a few corners.}" At first, there is no sign that Ivan feels any particular way about the news of possible crematorium-resourcing. He stands up straight again, bringing the hand with the spider to rest against the hand holding the box of passively sittin' crickets. "{I imagine it's hard.}" He looks up to study Kisha's face, a little pensively. "{Are you going to /steal/ them?}" He doesn't sound /thrilled/. The tarantula, meanwhile, slowly ambles over to the crickets. Showing very little interest indeed until one of them separates itself from the rest, inching out of the box and toward the spider- only to be snatched up by it, quick as lightning, suddenly cradled under the arachnid's useful, useful mouthparts. Mm. Kisha coughs. "{What? Do I look like I'm going to break into a crematorium.... That's a little mean of you to imply. I was going to buy it. Costs a couple of dollars because it's not something there is a huge demand for as a lot of people are spooked by the dead people stuff. It's quite above board. Ish.}" She leans back against the wall, making a little room between herself and the arachnids unpleasant, unpleasant mouthparts. "{When I talk about cutting corners I mean I'm rounding them smoothly, not blowing them to pieces with sticks of dynamite. A girl could get quite hurt by such accusations.}" "{I don't know you very well.}" Ivan replies in a tone that is much closer to his usual, quiet self. Kisha's words forcing him to look down and away again while his face promptly goes a bit redder than before. Whoop. "{I didn't mean to-- there's just so many-- I'm not-- very...}" That's apparently where his sentence ends, because his brows knit together and he decidedly shuts his own mouthparts, sinking lower to the floor again to coax the spider back to where it came from. And it listens. The remaining crickets are covered up again, through a bit clumsily. His next word is more of a mumble than anything else, "{Sorry.}" Kisha beams. "{I said a girl /could/ get hurt,}" she points out. "{Not that I was actually offended! I've helped with far worse things than grave robbing before, although I have reformed since. I've got thick enough skin to take practically any insult.. Sort of a necessity when you're been burnt quite this much.}" Socialling! It is hard. Ivan looks confused, though he does offer another look upward at Kisha as though /just/ to make sure she's actually really properly /not/ offended. He seems to at least take into consideration that she might not be, though he stays low to the ground even after sliding the terrarium shut again. "{I hope you'll find what you need.}" He finally says again, still vaguely apologetic. "{And I'll drop off a donation at your door, later? It will be a much better gift than a book. I don't think books have a very long life somewhere as damp as the sewers.}" "{You could laminate it,}" Kisha says thoughtfully. "{No, must keep focus on the project at hand. Extreme environment books can come later.. But anyway donation at my door, yes that works. I'll be sure to let her know you helped. And if you can tell Peter he'd better not do anything quite so stupid again that'll save me time, because I'll probably have forgotten by the time I actually see him next.}" "{I will tell him to be careful.}" Ivan nods as he says this, making mental notes to remember as he gets to his feet again. "{I can't promise that he won't get into trouble again, though. But maybe hopefully not the sort of trouble that almost gets him killed.}" Another smile, though it is brief. He breaks eye contact again, to focus his attention on another one of his bugs, reaching to slide another glass pane open. Time to get back to business. Somewhat absently, he adds, "{You are nicer than I thought.}" Kisha giggles. "{Man you must have had a really low opinion of me,}" she teases. "{Worst case if he keeps being stupid I'll make a collar with a little bell on it. Then he won't be able to get up to mischief! Anyway, you have.... your... things to deal with. So I'll leave you to it, because I have a rather large hammer to make.}" Without further comment she spins and begins striding off before the urge to say 'Hammer time' makes itself known. Later, an e-mail is written, from idvorobyov@gmail.com to the address provided: Hello, This is Ivan. From Xavier's School. Friend of Peter. I am very sorry, the cockroaches in the sewers were mine. Not mine really, but I borrowed them. But I made them do the thing. But that is not what I am writing for. Thank you for saving Peter. I would be very sad if he was not here. He is getting better and I will try to make him stay and not be in trouble until he is 100% healthy. I hope you are also healthy and being well and Thank you very much. - Ivan Dravovich.