Justric — Roleplayer Guild

(collab. between DotCom and Justric)

Mood significantly improved, Deli half walked, half skipped down the hall, head tilted back, counting the lights in the ceiling as they seemed to blur together. Her shoulder hurt, and the chess set was getting heavy, but Dr. Brock had approved her for work! If she was lucky, Reece and Curmy would never even find out about her, and they could all be friends and act out scenes from that old movie, Ghostbusters, in space. Yeah. That'd be fun.

The young demolisionist was just wondering whether she could make the two smuggled jars of Nütella in her bunk last a whole week when –

“Dios! Lo siento – er, sorry! My fault, wasn’t watching where I was going. Sorry.” She scrambled to her feet, hardly looking at the man she'd just attacked, as she took off after the scattered chess pieces. She was crouched, heaping rooks and pawns into her shirt, when she remembered he was still there.

“Hi!" she said brightly, beaming at the stranger with the weird jewelry on his face. "I’m Deli, who’re you?”

Hob had been lost in his own thoughts. After taking his leave of Naomi a corridor back with a half hearted promise to visit the doctors and get it over with, he had been left to dwell on the possibilities that she had... not promised but implied. Anything had to be better at this rate! If Yuriko of all people was close to breaking, it was a bad sign that could all too easily lead to bad-

The young woman bounced off of his chest and fell to the floor, chess pieces scattering everywhere. Hob rebounded off the wall but managed to remain standing, scowling. He forced himself to take a moment and count mentally to ten, his fingers clutching in barely suppressed anger at the unexpected collision; he day was simply not getting better, however promising his conversation with Naomi seemed to have been. Brushing his hand across the front of his rust colored jumpsuit, the musician glared down at her.

"I'm a wall, apparently." The words were dry and cutting. His eyes then dropped further down to see the remaining chess pieces scattered across the deck of the hallway. With a slight groan, he bent over and snagged a black bishop from beneath his one boot. It was still intact. Tossing it to her lightly, Hob shook his head. "You might want to look elsewhere for your white knight, though, Alice." He doubted she would get the Lewis Carroll reference, but one never knew.

His warning had a would-be creepy carousel version of the words we’re all mad here floating through her head in an instant, but Deli knew better than to voice her thoughts. The edge to his voice was a familiar one, and her smile softened to curiosity as she caught the proffered chess piece and straightened slowly.

"I'll find it later," she said warily, shrugging, then making a face as she felt the beginnings of the inevitable bruising that would start, despite Dr. Brock's careful ministrations. "Are you alright?"

She already knew the answer to that, just like she could guess how this man would probably react, just like she had known Gavin would start with Lopéz. A lifetime of inadvertently pissing people off had made her keenly aware of other's feelings, particularly toward her. Granted, his reaction had not been all that subtle to begin with.

"No," Hob admitted quite candidly, "but that's to be expected." A chewed fingernail tapped the silver disc upon his one temple. "This trip comes with a lot of baggage. Otherwise I wouldn't be on my way to have a colander strapped to my head to see whether or not I have to be slid into another confined space and have my brain scanned. After that, I'm supposed to go see Park and lie down on his couch for a friendly chat. Those meetings either result in the two of us sitting in uncomfortable silence for 45 minutes at a time or with my engaged in primal scream therapy, neither of which helps. In all fairness, neither of those things are your fault or your problem."

"Hob. Neuro-Interface Technician and all around sore loser." He waved his hand at the collection of chess pieces. "You familiar at all with the musical?"

Deli blinked once and had a brief flash of insight into what it might be like to talk to herself. A sudden bark of laughter burst from her lips and she nearly dropped the chess board again as she pressed her hands to her face to contain it.

"Sorry," she said a moment later when she'd regained some control, though she was still chuckling to herself. "You remind me of me. It's weird." She paused to considered this, laughed again, and shrugged before stooping to pick up the rest of the chess pieces.

"Do you mean the musical Chess? Claro. I ran away to the circus with mi mamí once. I didn't get to stay very long, when my dad found out, he made us come back. But we did a French translation of the show for a week Nice. I don't know if that counts. Did the regular version have elephants and spandex?"

She stood again, ramming the spilled pieces into the box with one hand, trying to shake her errant curls into relative submission. She studied this other man - Hob - for a second, then added cautiously, "For what it's worth, the colander isn't all that bad. And Dr. Brock's got Garfield Band-Aids." She made a face. "If you're into that sort of thing."

Hob frowned, his broad face uncertain. "Elephants? And spandex?" The musician actually gave careful thought to this notion before replying, "You know, Rice rewrote the script and order of songs so many times that it wouldn't surprise me, honestly."

That she had laughed and claimed that he reminded her of herself... Hob wasn't quite sure how to take that. Deli seemed rather lively and open, a ball of energy the vibrated with the universe. He had felt like that once upon a time. When he was plugged into the system, he still could feel like that which was what made the whole of his current existence bearable, especially around OLGA. But outside the system? No, not for some time. There was something about her that did remind Hob of the other NI-techs, though, and that thought put a chill down his spine for her. He could only hope that whatever her reasons were for seeing Dr. Brock, it didn't end in her getting fitted for her own set of implants.

"Garfield, huh?" he finally snorted after a moment of contemplative silence. "He got something against Snoopy?"

"That's what I said!" Deli exclaimed, momentarily forgetting herself to lunge well into Hob's personal space. "Oh. Um. Sorry," she added hastily, forcing herself to take a step back..and then a few more for good measure. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd just haul off on her. But Deli had a knack for rubbing raw nerves the wrong way.

In general, the enigmatic Spaniard was capable of befriending anyone who wasn't put off by her Jack-Russell-terrier-on-crack temperament. She liked people, and hated being alone. Even so, it wasn't very often she found people she wanted to talk to, and not just at.

"I told him the same thing," she added after a moment's silence. "About Snoopy, I mean. I don't think Dr. Brock knows I was in a circus." She frowned in earnest thought. "I don't think he'd get it."

She turned back to Hob, now awarding him with the relatively rare sight of unabashed curiosity, all but dissecting his very demeanor as best she could. There was a tension rolling off of him, one steeped in exhaustion and frustration and something else. One she couldn't understand, but really, really wanted to.

"NI-tech," she repeated slowly, now studying the small silver nodes at either temple. "You talk to the ship?" she asked, then, leaning close with a conspiratorial grin. "What's her name? It's a she, right? All ships are girls. I'm going to make her a cozy. For when space gets cold. Colder."

Hob smirked as for the first time in since being taken off the streets, he felt on familiar territory. The woman wasn't too different from some of the more artistic types he would pal around with time to time, the sort who would flit from one project to another in a frenzy and never quite get anything completed. People like that could be wearing after a while. At the moment, she was more like a breath of fresh air! And he didn't think that she would hold off for a moment to actually knit the Copernicus a cozy if she actually had the time and materials. Hob did doubt that she would ever actually complete the task before something shiny caught her eye and her attention, but he would credit her with trying!

"Not so much talk to the ship," he advised dryly but with a smile, "More like the ship uses my brain as its own to think." Hob decided not to go into too much detail about it. It wasn't anything he cared to talk about too much, and there was no telling how much Deli would understand even if he did.

"The ship's... more of an it than a she," came the honest reply, "The computer system doesn't have a name, it's just 'The Copernicus Central Computer." An image came to mind then, a bright eyed teenager full of life and energy and questions and intelligence. Hob's eyes dropped down almost shyly as he thought on that image and his smile began something sweeter and more personable. The musician's voice was soft. "But there is... well I guess you could call her a computer. She's networked into the central system and does a great deal of work for the researchers. I like to think of her as Dr. Brock's daughter. I talk to her a lot.... I like talking to her. And she does have a name, it's... OLGA."

There followed a profound silence as the NI-tech simply stood there and thought on her for a moment, wishing there were some way he could truly explain to OLGA how he was starting to feel about her and wondering if there ever would be anyway for her to reciprocate those feelings. Glancing up, he realized he and Deli were standing in the middle of the corridor in silence; she looked as though she were waiting for him to say something more.

Sticking his hand out in friendship, he smirked again at his own embarrassment, "I'm Hob, by the way. Nice to meet you, Deli.”

Deli made a face, scrunching up her nose like she was smelling burnt cookies and carcinogens.

"I don't think I'd want to share my brain," she said idly. "It'd get too crowded, too quick." She was pretty sure no one else would want to share her brain, either, epilepsy aside, but she didn't add that part.

Neither did she add her personal thoughts on Hob -- Hob and OLGA in particular. She'd loved robotics and engineering as a kid, but software had never been much her forte. She needed more moving parts to occupy her hands while her mind was a hundred different places at once. She had no idea whether it was possible for a computer for be a teenaged girl, or enjoy taking to an errant IT guy with a temper.

But the way Hob talked about her said their friendship was the kind Deli had stopped forming two years ago.

She didn't mention that, either. Hob was...different. Maybe different like her. And if things down on Reece's pod didn't work out, she was going to need an ally, even if friends were out of the picture. She didn't think he'd much appreciate any advice she could offer on the subject.

"Hob," she said instead, as the tech returned to himself. "Yeah, you said. It's nice to meet you, too. It's good she's got someone to talk to. I think I'd get lonely out here all alone." A grin split her face suddenly, and she tilted her head back until she could see the fuzzy inverted version of herself in the faintly reflective surface of the ceiling.

"It's nice to meet you, too, OLGA," she added brightly. "You should tell Hob your favorite color before I try and find any yarn."

She waited for a moment, hoping for an answer, but not really expecting one. Instead, she turned back to the NI-Tech, watching him carefully. She had nowhere on earth (or otherwise) to be, and knew from experience she could talk a person half to death before they could get a word of defense in edgewise. But the tension in the air surrounding her new friend, at least when he wasn't talking about OLGA, was palpable. Smothering, maybe, to anyone else. And it never took Deli long to overstay her welcome.

"Dr. Brock is good at the colander machine," she said abruptly. "I only ever had to use the bigger one once, and that was my fault." She paused to watch him for another moment, then added, "You should go. Sleep, and stuff. I hope Dr. Brock can fix whatever's wrong with you." Green eyes flicked up toward the ceiling. "And maybe she can help, too."

Hob closed his eyes and made a rueful face as he realized he had just introduced himself twice. Then again, there had been a difference. The first time, it was as more like he was naming himself as part of the ship; the second time, the introduction was more natural and warmer as if to affirm that he was actually human. Deli made him want to actually laugh. Not at her, but along with her, to share her natural exuberance! "I don't like sharing my brain either," he admitted candidly to her, "but it's not like I have much of a choice."

"But sleep?" he muttered wryly, "Oh, yeah. Sleep. I think that's a lost cause for now, Deli. Maybe after my next shift. For now, I'll stick with getting my head examined from the inside, skip the outside, and go get some food before they wire me back up again. I don't know that there's any 'fixing' me though. Though... OLGA helps."

He gave her a lopsided grin and stuck out his hand again. "It was nice to meet you, Deli. And it's been the first time in a while since I've said that to anyone! Don't be a stranger, huh?”

Deli nodded and smiled a little sadly.

"Sure," she said. Maybe they'll stick me with you guys if Reece doesn't let me work. But she didn't add that part, either. "I hope you get a chance to relax later, then. Even if they can't fix you." She stared at him for a moment, then turned abruptly to leave. She'd made it all of two steps before stopping and turning back, grinning bright as day, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You know what?" she said, a genuine question, though she doubted she'd get an answer. "I think you're okay, even not fixed." She paused as if to consider something, then shrugged. "Being fixed...I bet it's really boring. And space is way too big to be bored all the time."

Then she turned away as quickly as though she'd said nothing at all, humming some old song about a lot of red balloons under her breath.

Hob watched her weave her way down the corridor, a grin still on his face. Deli was... a nice change of pace. Too much of her would be wearing, certainly, but as his mother had always preached and practiced, "All things in moderation." Deli was anything BUT moderation! Considering his current circumstances, Hob was just fine with that!

With a sigh, he turned towards Dr. Brock's office door and realized that once more he had to go back to the real world now. Clenching his jaw to fight back the growing aggravation, he raised his hand and knocked.

"Knocking on a space ship door," he mumbled petulantly to himself, "You never saw Captain Kirk knocking on fucking on door aboard the Enterprise."

The huge miner didn't say one word or the other to Jack's questions, and the best the Newfie could figure was that the man still didn't know what to make of this short, vibrant madman with an open grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. That was fine, though. He wasn't the first person who didn't know what to make of Jack Pumphrey, and Jack was damned sure he wouldn't be the last. There was no college education in Jack's background, nor was he the most intelligent of men, but the handyman was all too aware that he probably came across as something of a character to others. In a way... he preferred it as such.

Content with things as they were, he continued to busy himself cleaning off the tools until they shone if not like new then close enough to it that it made no difference. It was annoying though. The tools he wiped down, degreased, oiled, buffed away rust, re-oiled again had no soul. These were tools that belonged to the shop, not to any one man, and Jack frowned a bit at that. To him, a great deal of the pride he took in his work and the jobs he had done was to be found in knowing that it was his own hands and his own tools that were involved, tools that he had paid for himself! In his family, you didn't use another man's hammer. You could ask, sure, and if it was in a pinch anyone could understand! But were these military folks really expected to use just whatever was provided to them?! Where the hell was the pride in that?! No wonder the shop was a bloody mess!

Still, there was no use getting worked up over it. In the end, a tool was a tool and should be treated with some respect and care. Were he a more imaginative man, he might have drawn comparisons between tools and children: just because it wasn't yours it doesn't mean you should't look after it! After all, even if that screwdriver there with the shiny plastic handle and rust covered tip wasn't your own battered wooden handled one with a fine patina on the metal, it could still get the job done and save the day. Or even your life! Jack happily busied himself until all the tools were again in their proper racks and drawers, frowning when he noticed a few sockets were missing from the torque set. Nothing to be done there, so he moved on to wiping down the benches and putting away all the solvents.

Just as he finished tossing a handful of used rags into a bucket for recycling, he looked up to see a pretty young woman exiting the one office. The sight of her made the earthy man smile happily, him being a man always glad to see a friendly face and especially after the dour and volatile miner who was engrossed in cleaning drill parts nearby!

"Missus," he drawled genially by way of greeting, nodding his head towards her, "Whaddya at?!" A friendly soul to the end, Jack wiped his hands off on a last rag and bucketed it before turning back to extend one of those working hands towards her. Without even asking, he took up the garbage things from her like it was exactly what he was there to do. The smell of the one bag made him wrinkle his nose a bit. "Sure, an' dat's some hum! Phew! Near poisoned, I am. i'll take this, never you mind, missus. Jack Pumphrey, custodial chummy or what have you. Who's you den?" His tone was light and genial as he slipped the bags onto an empty cart to haul them away.

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