ArchivedLogs:Triple Nerd Score

Triple Nerd Score
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Tag, Tatters, Lily, Matt	2013-01-24 Apparently, the library is the place to be. It's cold outside! Exactly too cold to think of anything clever to put in the summary.
Location <NYC> NY Public Library - Midtown East
The library has a myriad of uses, and today most of them are underway. The computers are crammed full of people taking advantage of the free internets. In one of the conference rooms a meeting seems to be getting quite passionate, judging by the gesticulating seen through its window. The children's section has a horde of small enraptured faces (and some less small ones, in various states of patient waiting or actively listening) clustered around a storyteller reading expressively from a colourful book. The stacks are full as ever of people browsing the myriad titles on the shelves. And over on one section of tables, there is a small crowd of people clustered around boards, many games of Scrabble underway. Some are friendly. Some are /vicious/. One features a young man, rail-thin and pale with a green knit cap pulled down over his head, arguing with his partner: "Embleer is totally a word, come on." Lucien is not partaking of this game. He has his own going on, beside it, which seems in its final stages judging by the scant free tiles left in the pool and crowded board space. "A word. But not in Scrabble," he says offhand to the other man. "/You/ let me use it," the thinner man complains. Lucien, meanwhile, is playing GROK on the last remaining triple-word space. He slides a dictionary across to the game beside him, lips twitching slightly. "Heh. Nerds." The Francis sisters are not engaged in a game of Words with People You Used To Be Friends with, but they are sitting close enough for the argument to catch the larger twin's attention -- and provoke a comment. This deep in the bitter winter, it's not uncommon for the homeless to find their way to the library, to take shelter within the edifice of knowledge against the oppressive cold outside. What is rare is for one of these vagabonds to have set themselves up in the reading room with a pile of biology textbooks, reading and cross-referencing and frequently scribbling down notes on a frayed pad of paper, its corners puffy and misshapen in that particular way that suggests it'd been left somewhere wet and subsequently dried out more than once. 'Puffy and misshapen' also describes the reader, somewhat: Tatters sits with her hood pulled back, her mop of dry black hair pinned out of her face with a plastic hair clip. After a few long minutes squinting at a page full of jargon she sighs and pushes the book back, closing her eyes and shaking her head. The girl sitting across from her, smallish and blonde and looking both much more human and much less homeless, looks up from her open sketchpad and meets Tatters' eyes for a moment, both sets a curious amber. After a silent, shared sigh they both get back to work, Tatters to her research and her sister to her doodling. The woman behind the counter had just listed all of the acceptable primary and secondary forms of ID while Tag dug through his rainbow wallet. He wears a peacoat of bright azure blue, grey jeans, and a dizzy space-dyed scarf. His hair is several different shades of green, like a nest of fine-bladed grass. "I guess I have to use this," he mumbles, handing over his driver's license. "It's an old picture," he retorts. "I dyed my hair." "This is a /woman/," she says, looking at him more closely now. "Look, just forget it," he says, taking back the ID. "I'll just read them here. Sorry for the trouble!" He flees before she has a chance to say anything else. He slinks over to the tables, but does not immediately spot an opening. He stands there for a moment looking lost, clutching /Perdido Street Station/ and /Wan Nian Han/ to his chest." The man beside Lucien looks up, at this exchange -- both exchanges, his eyebrows raising. Lucien's opponent looks up, too. He frowns at the dictionary. He frowns at /grok/. He frowns at Tatters and Tag both. "No," he eventually allows, irritably. Using the K from GROK, he lays out FREAK. Lucien chuffs out a quiet snort, at this, green eyes looking away from the board to scan the other people nearby. His eyebrows raise, too, when he spots Tatters. "You might be surrounded by them," he cautions Tatters, after a slow once-over. He is gesturing with an absent flick of fingers to /Perdido Street Station/ in Tag's arms as the man nears. "Hey," says the thin man beside him, "that's an awesome book. /You/ just got it for me." Lucien does not acknowledge this /accusation/. But he does not deny it, either. "Surrounded by nerds..." Tatters blinks her bulbous eyes and gives her sister a look of slowly dawning mock horror. "Lily, is this the part of the library Mother warned us about?" Across the way, Lily shrugs and offers a noncommittal "Mhmm," not looking up from her doodling, slouching back in her chair and propping her knees up on the edge of the table. Tag gravitates toward Lucien and his Scrabble opponent, though his eyes--one green like his hair, one blue like his coat--linger on Tatters. "Hey, is this seat taken?" he asks, reaching for his wonted cheerfulness and not quite making it, "I won't interrupt your game or anything." "You should be more aware of your surroundings," Lucien offers quietly, Tatters-and-Lily-wards. "One wrong turn and before you know it, it is lapine curses while slake-moths eat your mind. You should leave now, while you still can." He doesn't look up at Tag. He is busy playing again: TAX. It's not long. But there is little space left to claim. "Do you return library books?" he asks Tag, in lieu of answer. "On time?" "Well, here we are. Trapped on the wrong side of the stacks, dozens of yards from safety." Tatters turns a page of her book, pausing her commentary to examine complicated looking diagram of some molecular synthesis or other, frowning at the page for a second or two before blinking and glancing back up at Lucien, with a sidelong look to her sister. "Think we can take them in a nerd fight, sister?" Lily raises her own eyes from her sketchbook and shrugs. "No." "Hmm?" Lily drops her attention back to her sketchbook, opens to a fresh page, and soon presents her rebuttal: a cartoon of a hooded figure literally living under a rock, with the rock and "Tatters" helpfully labeled, captioned with "9/3/12." The hermit in question just rolls her eyes. "So I'm months behind the cutting edge of nerddom, so what. No one's made anything good since, like, 2009 anyways." Half a table away, one of the scrabble players looks up from his game and frowns. "Two thousand NINE? Pfft." Returning to his game, he heaves a heavy sigh. "...kids." "Yes!" Tag replies at once, then bites his lip. "Always. Except that one time we got snowed in..." He trails off, pulling out the chair as quietly as he could and sinking into it. "Don't feel bad," he directs this at Tatters, even though he did not think she was addressing him. "I've been off the grid for years. Haven't even had a TV since '07." Flashing a shy smile at her, he turns back to his books and runs his slender fingers over the glossy plastic alone their spines. "Come, now. You do not need a television to be a proper nerd. Get some books. Some games. You will manage." Lucien glances over towards the two women, looking with some amusement at Lily's cartoon. "What happened on March ninth?" His opponent has played -- GUT -- and Lucien expends his last two letters changing a GROW into a GROWTH. He offers a handshake to his opponent, but turns his attention away after this to gesture towards Tag's books. Kind of /demandingly/. Give 'em. The blond girl sighs and draws a big, swooping arrow from the '9,' curving around and pointing to a neat, cursive "November." Glancing back over her shoulder towards the man, she meets his eyes and shrugs, a movement echoed by Tatters herself as she pulls her book back towards her and taps a finger absently against the page. "It's kind of a long story." She seems slightly embarrassed by being called on to explain the matter, eyes flicking up to notice and return Tag's smile when he comments. "Ooh, I like games!" Tag says, brightening up visibly--literally, to those sufficiently perceptive. "I just found some new board gaming buddies." He gathers the books closer almost reflexively at Lucien's gesture, but then relinquishes them. "Would you really check them out for me?" He asks, cocking his head. "You don't even know me." A pause, a small smile. "I'm Tag." "September third," the other man is correcting Lucien, until he frowns in confusion at the cursive. "-- Wait. November is eleven --?" "We can get rid of March," Lucien allows. "And July. Useless months, the both of them. November will move up to nine. -- A long story that pushed you under a rock?" He takes the books as he stands, tucking them beneath an arm. "Luci has a soft spot," the other man is saying, amusement in his quietly accented voice, "for --" He looks Tag over a moment. "Books." "Nobody should have to be without," Lucien agrees, and nudges the other man in the shoulder with one of Tag's books. "Matt. It is your turn." Matt's eyes widen, his head ducking sheepishly as he turns back to his Scrabble. His partner does not seem to care, rather engrossed in kibbutzing in the next game over. Tatters blinks at the exchange, then half-stands and leans over the table to take another look at Lily's drawing, before she hmphs and yanks the sketchbook away. "Hah! You dun goofed. Um," looking back up at Lucien, she returns to her seat and continues. "Stuff happened in both months. And yes, that's...basically accurate." Settling back in her seat, she regards the exchange between Tag and Lucien and Matt with a raised eyebrow and a suppressed snerk, at least until the exchange raises a pertinent question. "...Lucy?" Lily has no comment, pointedly immersing herself in her sketching and ignoring the conversation around her. "Well, my legal name means 'rainbow'," Tag offers with a shrug, blushing just a touch. "And I knew a girl named David...though she pronounced it 'Da /Vid/'." He curls his legs up onto the seat of the chair and sits on them. "Are you studying to be a doctor?" he asks, peering at the books surrounding Tatters. "Luci's him," Matt says, waving a hand towards Lucien as though that had not been obvious. He squints at Tag's colourful attire, mouth curling into a bright smile. "Rainbow? You live up to it. -- Is it a /nice/ rock, at least?" Lucien looks Tatters over with a slow sweep of glance and a slightly skeptical raise of eyebrows. "Good luck with that," he murmurs, with a slight twitch of lips for Tag's question. He slips away towards the front desk, taking his own library card from his wallet to check the books out, sans difficulties. Tatters sighs at Tag's question, giving her book an accusatory glare. "Oh, if only. I'm trying to learn how bodies are *supposed* to work so I can fix mine. But apparently they're complicated?" At Matt's words she glances back up and shrugs. "There are worse rocks, I guess. Location's not bad, but I can't say I care for the neighbors." Across the way, Lily heaves a long-suffering sigh, communicating eloquently that she doesn't think that was nearly as funny as Tatters did. "Bodies.../are/ complicated," Tag agrees solemnly, stealing a sidelong glance at Lucien. "Sometimes I wonder if /anyone's/ body works how bodies are 'supposed' to work." He grins while saying this, but his mismatched eyes seem wan and his colors muted. "I hope you can get yours how you want it, though. I really do." Matt is just finishing up his own Scrabble game, with a /grin/ for the ending score (in which he has /solidly/ trounced the older man he plays against) and a quick shake of hands. He doesn't start again, slowly collecting the pieces to put them away in their pouch. There's something wry about the upward hooked smile that curls his chapped lips as he looks between Tag and Tatters. "Supposed to work," he echoes, quietly amused, "no, I don't think most people's do. Can you fix bodies?" Lucien doesn't take long to check the books out. He frowns, slightly, at the last overheard question as he returns to take his seat again, and his green eyes slant between the other people around. He doesn't give Tag his books back. "Phone number," he says instead, slipping a slim black phone from his pocket. Tatters smiles up at Tag. "Thanks, really." And to Matt, when he chimes in: "Fix? Nah. I can mess around with my own, is all. And while some things are simple, I've done, like, years of damage to my endocrine system that I'm not even sure how to *begin* sorting out. I wasn't born with the power to intuitively understand hormone synthesis." She frowns down at her notes once again. "I dunno if *anyone* really understands this stuff. I should probably take a class or something." Her eyes flick back up to note Lucien's hostage maneuver, prompting a snerk and a roll of her eyes. "...nice." Lily just keeps on drawing. Tag turns and gives Matt a searching look over his shoulder. "Man, if you ever find anyone who /can/ 'fix' bodies, let me know!" Then, to Tatters, "My endocrine system started out messed up, but I showed it what for! At least now it's messed up on /my/ terms." His smile is genuine now, though. Twisting back to face Lucien, he rattles off a series of digits, then adds, "There's rarely anyone there during the day, though." Lucien enters the number into his phone, pocketing it after. "I just need to know where to harass if I start getting late fees." There's a thinner twisted curl to his lips as he leans back in his chair. "If we find anyone who can fix bodies," he says, quieter and a little tighter, with a glance towards the thinner paler man beside him, "Well. That will be a wonderful day." Matt just smiles, at that, scooting his chair a little closer to Lucien's to rest his chin on the other man's shoulder. And dig it in, poky and hard. "Community college has plenty of classes. Um. Would they -- make it hard for you?" he considers this, absently chewing at a flaky patch of dead skin on his lip. "I bet there's some online too. -- What terms are those?" He looks at Tag, a little puzzled. Lucien exhales sharp at his brother's question, lips thinning further. He offers the books over to Tag, finally. Tatters quiets at Lucien's question, glancing at Matt and frowning. There's clearly more to this than she was aware of. But she doesn't pry; it isn't really her business. And she meets Lily's eyes with a warning look when the latter peeks up from her drawing, a preemptive admonition against Meddling. And then, she answers with a shrug. "I dunno. Probably? The Internet's probably a better bet; I'll Google around a bit next time I get a study break." Accepting the books with a deep bow--which looks odd, since he is kneeling on a chair, at a table, in a library--Tag hugs them tightly to his chest. "Thank you so much! I promise I'll return them on time. /Even/ if we get snowed in. I mean, if I had a library card, I could renew them online if that happened. Speaking of which Coursera is pretty cool, I hear. For classes. Online. I'm babbling." He stops, looks at Matt, looks down at his books, then back at the young man. "It's...a long story?" he replies, snickering. "I hate even thinking about it." Fishing out his wallet, Tag palms his old driver's license and, hesitating only briefly, passes it to Matt. Matt glances down at the license. Glances up at Tag, his eyebrows raising curiously. Down at the license again. From his position with Matt leaning against his shoulder, it is not difficult for Lucien to look down, too, but he looks less surprised; perhaps he was paying more attention to the earlier exchange with the librarian. "Long story," Matt echoes, considering Tag a longer moment before handing it back. "But a fairly short summary," Lucien says, a faint curl of thin smile on his lips. "I guess they all are," Matt agrees, wryly, slumping a little more /heavily/ against Lucien's back, not so much annoying-little-brother-digging anymore as just a tired drape. "Mmm." Lucien's hum is neutral in cadence, agreement maybe, maybe just acknowledgment. "The library is free. And Coursera is wonderful. For scientific classes especially. On the internet," he says, his smile sharpening, "nobody knows you are a freak." "On the internet," Tatters clarifies, with a snort, "It's easier to *pretend* you aren't a freak. But I'm still not very good at it." In response, Jill whistles innocently as she finishes putting the finishing touches on a sweeping, stylized rendering of the word 'OPINIONS!' riding the trail of a shooting star. All those involve receive a nod. "And thanks, I'll definitely check them out." Catching sight of the clock, Tag sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "/Gan!/ I gotta get to an interview. I think--I hope!" He scrambles to his feet and bows again to the brothers, then to the sisters. "It was really nice meeting you all! Maybe I'll see you around sometime." Abstract shapes of red and orange creep up his brown leather boots and onto the cuffs of his jeans like painted fire. "Wish me luck or something. If this goes well, I'm gonna be a /courier!/ Bye!" He pulls on a screaming purple wool cap and dashes off with a grin plastered to his face. "Should I wish you luck with that? That sounds kind of like saying you are auditioning to be target practice for the city's taxi drivers." Maybe this is like luck, in Lucien-land. He watches the change of clothing with a slightly wider-eyed expression, but then just turns away. Matt, at least, is more cheerful-polite in departure: "Good luck!" he says, brightly, "See you, maybe!" "Is it difficult to pretend not to be a freak?" Lucien wants to know, turning back towards Tatters. "Ah -- that is," he adds, with a wry smile and brief look over the young woman, "when people cannot see you. I am not sure what the markers of freakdom are. Everyone has opinions. Quite vocally, online." "Good luck!" Both Francis sisters look up to wave a simultaneous farewell, Tatters laughing and letting out a sigh of relief at the chromatic display, shaking her head ruefully as she turns back to the others. "Oh thank god, he does stuff with colors. He was shifting a little earlier, and I thought my eyes were going out of whack." Looking up at her sister, she carries on, nodding her head vaguely towards the outside. "By the way, I meant to tell you; I ran into a girl yesterday who was, like, psychically manipulating graffiti." Tatters raises her hands and waggles her fingers in illustration. "She, uh, bolted like a spooked deer when a cop wandered by, but it seemed like the kind of thing you'd be into." Lily taps her lips with the end of her pen, and utters an understated "Neat." And then, oh! Tatters glances back at Lucien, and shrugs. "You'd be surprised. I'm bad at hiding *sympathy* at any rate, and people tend to read that as damning enough." "I find the easiest way to get around that is not to have sympathy," Lucien answers blandly. "Saaaays the man who just put a stranger's books on his library card because he hates seeing discrimination." Matt's chin is digging into Lucien's shoulder again. Lucien absently swats at his brother's /head/ though, given that he has to reach up and behind himself to do so it is not particularly a hard blow. "Because I hate seeing anyone deprived of books," he corrects. /Firmly/. "-- Psychically manipulating graffiti?" His eyebrows raise in curious questioning. "There was paint on a wall, and she was moving it around. I didn't really grill her about the specifics." Tatters shrugs, then snaps her fingers and clarifies with an amused sigh. "...dried paint, with her mind. Finger painting is not a psychic power." Lily gives her a Look of clear offense and disagreement, a silent but emphatic 'IS TO.' Tatters just grins at her. And...lets the exchange between the other pair of siblings go without comment. "Finger painting seems to be his psychic power." Lucien's fingers waggle in the direction of -- well, nobody. Tag's gone. But where Tag had /sat/, at least. "Where did you run into her?" Matt is closing up his Scrabble box, leaning forward to murmur something to Lucien in quiet French. Lucien hums, quiet agreement, and gets to his feet. He ignores his own jacket, for the moment, picking up the one on his brother's chair to hold it open. Matt is much slower to stand, pulling himself up braced against the back of his chair, then Lucien's arm, accepting the help to get his jacket on, too. "Sorry," he says to Lily and Tatters, "'bout that time. I didn't get your names?" "Oh! I'm J-" Lily opens her mouth to interrupt, but Tatters just gives her a look and she defers with a chuckle. "-Jill. The brat over there is Lily." The brat in question disputes this by pulling a face and sticking out her tongue. "Pleased to meet you...three, I guess. Safe travels!" Lily puts aside her silent protestation to turn in her seat and nod a cheerful agreement. "And you," Lucien agrees, with an addendum from Matt, "sure, into the exciting world of anatomy. It's like /Magic School Bus/ travels." Matt's leaning against the chair as Lucien puts on his own coat, his return wave is just as cheerful, a sharp contradiction to the exhaustion with which he slumps gratefully into the arm Lucien offers him as they turn, heading out into the city.