Logs:Spilling the Tea
|Spilling the Tea|
"Is it good news, at least?" (Part of Prometheus tp.)
Apt 403 - 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. A widescreen television stands against the wall opposite the couch, shelving beside it holding a host of video games from different consoles. More shelving beside the windows on the far wall carries stacks of board games, as well as sourcebooks from various RPGs.
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 and one bathroom situated between them, split between the three people who live here.
The windows have been thrown open wide, letting in the sunshine and warm spring air. The sounds of honking taxis and someone drumming in the park across the street. Occasionally a mosquito. An inquisitive pigeon is making a tentative venture in through the fire escape window, too.
Flicker, just grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, stops briefly to watch the pigeon. He doesn't attempt to dissuade it from coming inside. Just eyes it as it hops over the threshold. Scrubs his knuckles against his eye, continues on to drop down and sit on a milk crate in the living room. Dressed in neatly pressed khakis, a plain green polo whose sleeve hangs empty on one side. "I don't think Jax will be home till late."
Skye is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, computer in her lap though it's not open at the moment. She's wearing a black t-shirt with a pixelated rainbow brain above the word (also in rainbow) "neurodiversity", and skinny blue jeans. There's a big carton of karaage on the table, but she hasn't touched it or the cup of bubble tea sweating on a coaster in front of her. "I can come back later, if you think that's better?" She's fiddling with a USB drive, sliding it in and out of its case. "I know everyone's been super busy and stressed out, but I'm just not sure what the means for the mission."
Unlike the others, Matt /is/ sitting in an actual chair, though only in a technical sense--he's draped across it kind of sidewise, legs dangling over one of the arms, elbow propped against the other. That he's still dressed in work clothes--crisp seafoam green dress shirt, green-silver-striped tie silvery gray vest, charcoal slacks, black oxfords--makes this all the more striking an image. "I'm not sure anyone actually knows what this means for the mission, but it's not as though we had nailed down a date." He uncaps a thermos that had been tucked beside him for a sip. "/That/ was going to depend to some extent on what you found...and it still may. You can feel free to run it by us, in any event."
"I don't know what's better." Flicker leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee. He sips at the water. Brows pulling together. "Ryan was kind of taking the lead on this, and Jax --" His jaw tightens, teeth briefly grinding. "I'm sure he'll figure it out. Just been kind of a hard. Time for him." His smile is a little wan. "Is it good news, at least? They've just fired all their guards and given staff a month vacation? Even I could figure out where to go from there."
"Yeah," Skye says to her USB drive. "Anyway if you don't think it's worth bothering Jax about yet, I can just like. Keep digging." She stuffs the drive into one of her pockets and takes a long swig of her bubble tea. "So, it /is/ good news, but not /that/ good. I got access to their system, and their electronic security is integrated, so I can do shit like...disable the cameras, unlock the doors, all that. Well, not the doors to the cells, those are on their own closed circuit, but pretty much everything else." She opens up her laptop and types something in. "To be on the safe side, I'm not doing anything on their network right now aside from watch, but we can get pretty detailed intelligence on their physical security that way, too."
"Mmm." At Flicker's explanation that Ryan had been leading the mission, Matt's power tightens against Skye's, momentarily noticeable though it has been there, quiescent and observing, for quite some time. His eyes are keen despite his languid posture, and focus sharply on Skye as she speaks. "That's quite good, actually." Despite the words, his tone is neutral, almost distant. "Do you have access to their research data, as well? Surveillance of the subjects?"
"No, I mean. I'm sure he'll want to know. Need to know." Flicker gulps at his water again. "Especially if -- well. /Have/ you been watching? Have you seen." His teeth briefly creak again. "About how many people we're looking at?"
Skye's shoulders hunch inward. She doesn't look at either Flicker or Matt. "I -- yeah. To both. The actual data is really hit or miss. Probably PEBK -- uh, on the user end. But the surveillance -- I have been watching." Light tremors pulse through the furniture of living room, as though someone had just cranked up the subwoofer but nothing else, for a moment. Her hands hover above the keyboard, reaching and touching keys lightly but not actually typing as she speaks. "They have thirteen right now. One arrived just last week. Room for seven more. I think they transfer 'difficult subjects' there." Her fingers freeze in place. "Unless you mean staff or security? It'll take me a bit longer to get a count on those."
Matt makes no attempt to prevent the activation of Skye's power, though the intensity of his scrutiny while they work is nearly palpable. Outwardly, though, his eyes merely drop down to her hands, his expression softening slightly. "I imagine it would be difficult for anyone to watch," he says gently. "But it's necessary right now, and I thank you for it. If you can match whatever files and data you find to the surveillance---it would be good to know who may be leveraged against us, or who may pose a hazard regardless." His eyes stray to Flicker, considering. "Might do to have someone who's been on at least a few raids sit with you to sift those out."
"Difficult. Like. Uncooperative? Or powers that -- mmm." Flicker's jaw is still clenched. His eyes close for a moment at the brief rumbling. The glass in his hand slips, falls -- doesn't get /far/, dropping only an inch or so before he catches it again. (The pigeon that has made its way into the room is just strutting over to hop up onto the table. Its feathers ruffle up at the shaking. The rumbles do not discourage the bird from darting its head out to peck at the karaage.) Flicker gets to his feet, fingers curled tight around his glass. His smile is quick. Very thin. Very brief. "I've been on a couple."
Skye glances at Flicker's glass, not a drop of water spilled. "Sorry," she mumbles, frowning at her screen. "Not sure, but I think it's either or both? The staff's memos are very --" Her eyes dart to Matt, then Flicker. "-- euphemistic. It's like they get the people who researchers at other facilities couldn't achieve their goals with, for whatever reason, but who still have powers that interest the project overall." Matt can sense her power activating again, but she notices it in time to reel it in before anything starts sensibly or audibly shaking. She glares at the pigeon, finally taking a chunk of the spiced fried chicken for herself, now that she has competition, though she doesn't try to chase it away. After she's swallowed her food -- it looks kind of forced -- she finally looks up at Flicker. "If you're willing, we can. Maybe get that done, before Jax gets home?" She looks down at her screen again, though from his new vantage point Flicker can see it's just three overlapping terminals full of text right now. "I do know their new person is a telepath, though."
Matt gives a noncommittal hum. "We'll definitely want as much detail as we can get on these ragtag misfits. Especially the telepath." He rubs his knuckles across his chin--faint rasp of stubble--and stares at the pigeon thoughtfully. "And compile a profile on their security staffing, too, since we have access this time. I would not be surprised if they're expected to deal with special subjects. Shall I rustle up some supper for you two before I go, or..." His lips press tightly together. "Do you expect not to want any?"
"Probably I need to eat before work." Flicker doesn't sound /happy/ about it, though. Flicker drains his water in another long gulp. The glass disappears from his hand, reappearing with a soft thunk in the kitchen sink. His eyes drop down to Skye's screen. Look back up -- watching the pigeon with a blank sort of noncomprehension as it steals the chicken. "Yeah. No. It's fine. I'm good to -- help." He gestures towards the screen. "Brazen," is his only final commentary on the bird as he drops down beside Skye.
(He still doesn't shoo it, though.)