Logs:Known Variables

Known Variables
Dramatis Personae Halim, Joshua
In Absentia	2024-08-04 "... you were an asshole."
Location <XAV> Music Room - Xs Second Floor
Wide and spacious, seating in this soundproofed room comes largely on the sweep of gentle risers that afford the teacher an easy view of all the budding performers, and add another dimension to the acoustics of the room. Instruments of all types are carefully stored around the room, and a grand piano, immaculately upkept, takes the position of prize near the back. In a nod to the eclectic studies of the students, digital mixing equipment and turntables rub shoulders with the classical instruments. Music stands sit in front of most of the seats, and the only windows look out out over the side of the school grounds. There's piano coming from the music room, intricate and lively and jazzy. The notes are weaving themselves in complicated harmony with the frenetic buzz of Halim's mind -- who knows what the technopath is doing, really, but it's definitely always busy in there. Some of the tangle is unwinding itself, realigning into different patterns as the music rises and falls. Halim is just a skinny hunched figure in ill-fitting jeans and a black tee, kind of dwarfed by the grand piano he is sitting at. Joshua, on the other hand, barely registers at all at the moment to the other man's senses, no phone currently on him and his only digital signature the Fitbit around his wrist. The kid he's been conversing with, tucked on a bench at the end of the hall, has their phone in hand, laptop and Steam Deck in their bag, and have been sending off an endless stream of texts through this coaching. Though the teenager is bounding down the stairs, Joshua's steps (9,772 - 9,773 - 9,774) are slowing and stopping outside the door. There's a significant pause before he pushes the door open, slipping inside. He's in jeans, too (better fitted), black-flag embroidered kippah, red tee shirt reading "דאַלױ פּאָליצײ" across the chest. He only gets to 9,777 before stopping, dropping onto a stool and pressing his palms to his knees. His head tilts to the side, posture very stiff in contrast to the nimble music. The music doesn't stop. Not for a while. Halim has not looked up, looked over, but eventually the music shifts -- also lively, though a sudden genre shift as the improvisational jazz gives way to "Daloy Politsey". Joshua's shoulders go tighter, and his eyes drop sharp -- he's definitely been staring and for quite a while, too. He puffs out a tired kind of laugh, his fingers digging down against his legs. "Big career change, then?" "Pork is haram." Halim drops his hands from the keyboard after the chorus is through, and in contrast to his previous animation is now abruptly and eerily still. "Is it. A problem." This time Joshua's breath is ragged, a soft and shaky exhale. "Want all cops to quit their jobs." Halim swivels on the piano bench, slowly, to face Joshua. He's silent, now, dark eyes fixed hard on the other man. After a bit, one of his eyebrows ticks up. Joshua doesn't look back at Halim. One of his leg bounces jittery-quick against the rung of the stool, and he presses his palm down hard against it. Eventually he swallows, shakes his head. "It's my problem." "Yes," Halim agrees, kind of flat. Maybe he's going to leave it there, because he turns back to the piano, sets his hands back to the keys. He doesn't start playing, though. When he exhales, hard and quick, its with a jangling discord as his fingers settle heavier into no particular keys. His hands drop back to his lap, the notes fading away. "I don't need a job." Halim's first answer oddly loosens some of Joshua's tension. His shoulders unclench, his forearms no longer braced hard where they're pressing down. "School needs good staff." He is getting up from his stool now, arms crossing tight over his chest. His slouching walk is a little too slow to be entirely pacing the room but there's something of that antsiness in it all the same. "Bet hacking your own feelings helps, dealing with kids all day, too." Halim pushes himself stiffly to his feet. He emerges from behind the piano, leaning against its side. He's settled back into stillness, except for the tick-tick-tick of his eyes following Joshua's path. "I don't." There's a break here, small and staccato. "I could. But I'm. Not." "I didn't mean --" There's an apology growing here, in Joshua's tone, but it cuts off into a sharp and frustrated hitch of breath. "Sorry. Didn't come here to be weird at you. Just -- figured. If you're sticking around. I should." He stops, halfway across the floor, and his shoulders sag before he resumes moving. A little faster, too -- now he is definitely pacing. "Fuck." Halim just keeps tracking Joshua. His expression stays impassive, until that profanity; his flinch there is small but noticeable in the tightening of his eyes and small bowing of his head. "You have other friends." It's abrupt, albeit just as toneless. "What?" Joshua turns on his heel, his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "Obviously," this is abrupt, too, but too sharp-clipped to really be toneless; the slight irritation carries through to the small clench of his jaw. He works his jaw slowly, exhales slowly. "'zat supposed to -- what. Make this better?" "I don't." Halim is, again, slow to answer, and even after this first he's still dredging up words with some difficulty. "I've looked. Old files. Notes. Emails. Many places. Didn't have many -- back then. Either. All dead or gone now, except for -- well." He looks to Joshua's face, and then away to the wall. "You're gone, too. And here." Joshua's steps hitch, and stop again. His cheeks puff out, and he lets all the air out in one quiet pop. "... you were an asshole." "Were," Halim echoes, immediate. Joshua's eyes scrunch up, his forefinger and thumb rubbing hard at them, and behind the awning of his hand it's almost hard to tell if his hoarse hhh is a laugh or just exasperated. He vanishes -- -- and reappears by the piano, leaning back up against it beside Halim. "Shit, man. Can only speak to what I know." "Extrapolating from past data," Halim continues, stubbornly deadpan, "this is the best investment of my time. Was at my last job a decade before making a single friend." He doesn't look over when Joshua blinks in beside him, just bobs his head like something, finally, has clicked into place. "You'll learn again." "Shocked you even found the one." Joshua's eyes are turning up toward the ceiling, and his fingers drum lightly against the side of the piano. "Yeah. Quick study. Kinda my thing." Halim nods again, a very, good, that's settled kind of firmness in it. "Too bad." He's circling back, now, to drop back onto the piano bench. "A few more minutes of angst and you would have finished getting your steps in." "Hhh." It's definitely exasperated this time. And also a laugh. It doesn't fade away so much as just abruptly truncate, because Joshua is gone.