The general atmosphere of the Conrad Hotel basement still isn't at its best, all things considered. Despite the looming threat of Romana waking up and possibly smiting everyone who isn't one of her angels, there are people around. Doin' Stuff.
Marshall Flinkman has staked out a little corner of the common room and jacked a table that is now filled
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Well, then she spots the fellow in the corner, constructing.. something. Her wings are out (they're small, childlike, cream colored and irresistibly fuzzy) and she approaches with great curiosity.
"What'cha makin'?" A big smile.
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"Well, I'm trying to see if I can make a tracking device out of this necklace, using spare parts. It's a bit clumsy, but it might work with about a radius of, oh, twenty or so miles." He nods to the aforementioned necklace lying in front of him as he continues to tinker with it with a couple of finely delicate tools- really, it's best not to ask how he finds these things. It's just a piece of cheap gold costume jewelery with a heart-shaped locket, which is now laying open with the skeleton of what looks like a tiny microchip inside it where a picture might be otherwise. "Theoretically, this would be much easier if I had access to equipment much more refined than what I have, so this is about like hacking into a bank with a plastic whistle, but I make do with what I can ( ... )
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Either way, it's something she's never seen before, and that's enough to keep her interest. Giggling, she shakes her head and wrinkles her nose, "Nope, sorry. But it seems kinda hard."
Nodding to emphasize her point, she leans her elbows on the table, wings giving an absent flutter as she examines his work. "It looks cool though."
She smiles up at him, seemingly oblivious to the awkward in his own smile. But that's just Lavendar. She's always smiling, always curious and wondering. And she especially loves meeting new people! And New People with neat hobbies are even more interesting.
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"Not really, no. Well, not for me anyway, but I'm sort of a genius. Well, not sort of, by any means." From anyone else, that would be an arrogant statement, but from Marshall it's kinda adorable. "Uh... Anyway. Even still, it's harder than normal, but... I like a challenge!"
The awkward smile vanishes, because Marshall does tend to love to prattle on about his gadgets and there's nothing awkward about that at all. "It's very cool. This is what I used to do for a living, you know, before I fell through the Rift. Although I guess I could do it for Torchwood too if I ever got the equipment."
He pauses. "I'm Marshall, by the way."
Yes, Marshall, introducing yourself to people before you ramble at them is generally a good idea.
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"Well, in theory, this is a tracking device. A bit clumsy and the frequency can probably be jammed by microwave ovens in the general vincinity and it only gets a twenty mile radius before it konks out, but it's not bad for a prototype using only spare parts, if I do say so myself." Oh yes, Marshall is often proud of his toys. Especially when he made them out of junk. "Of course, it's not nearly as subtle as I'm goin' for, but this is just a practice round. Make sure ol' Flink's still got the moves in another universe."
He chuckles and it eventually peters out awkwardly. "So, uh, I'm Marshall Flinkman." He offers his hand. "You a tech geek too or just passin' by?"
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He eagerly looks back at the spare bits still on the table. "Where did you get all this? I've got some projects going myself, and spare parts are always needed."
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"Don't I know it," he says, mildly sulky. He misses his government budget and all the things he could do with it, but hey! Maybe Torchwood will come into something. Maaaaybe.
Marshall looks down at his parts and grins sheepishly. "The closets, mostly. I think most everyone who needed parts has already picked through the good stuff, but there were a couple of old VCRs stuck in corners that I gutted and Tosh had some spare computer chips from back when she was building laptops. Mostly it's just a fluke that I found anything at all."
The narration often wonders if maybe the closets are about as magic as the endless hallway and always seem to produce what one needs, but... That's probably not the case. Marshall's just resourceful.
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He eyes her book curiously. It doesn't strike him as a particularly funny subject, but he's run across people with all sorts of ridiculous ideas on how magic works. "Good book?" he asks, not really meaning that at all.
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She stares down at the book, shaking her head. "Stupid as fuck, but I needed the laugh. Spice racks and chanting naked in the woods to unnamed pagan goddesses just sounds ridiculous on any level, no matter how magic actually works." She arches an eyebrow at him. "And if they do that where you're from, I reverse the right to mock you forever."
She means that out of love, Harry. She likes you. Really!
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"Granted," he adds after a moment, "it's not always the most glamorous thing in the world, but normal people have no idea how it really works. Better that way."
"Although it does lead to your kind being mocked and belittled for their contributions to society," Lash adds. He looks over at her and gives her a warning look, although it's not too severe. She's right, although he hates to admit it. At least here, his abilities and knowledge are respected. That's a definite improvement.
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The laughter dies away and she fixes him with a look. Not so much a threatening look as a deeply serious one. "You bet your ass it's better. What people don't understand, they try to destroy or squash out. It tends to make people a bit tetchy. And I don't want any witch hunts down on my head." She frowns and looks away. "'Course with the way things are going in this city, eventually people are going to start figuring things out. The boss man thinks he's got a war with the angels, but wait until the normals start banging down his door."
Sonja... Doesn't have a very appealing view of normal people. For what amounts to good reasons, not that she needs one.
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