(Untitled)

[nipplefaucets]

There's a boy. He looks a little like someone else that frequents the Nexus on occasion, less a couple years and a few packs of disposable razors.

Robert Baldwin grins cheerfully as he throws himself into a cushy chair, pulling long blond hair out of his eyes.

"So what's this I hear about time going all screwy?"

Comments

[mathemanic]

Hot on his heels is a hatrack of a man in full panic mode.

"Ohhhh no. Nonononono. This is not right.... Time is ... screwed up and you fell into it and--I just know I'm going to be blamed for this, the differentials are all off and I can't--get a fix on where it went wrong--I need to get you back to the base so I can focus--get your planar shifts realigned.... oh, this is ... not right....

[nipplefaucets]

At Tom's appearance Robbie sits up straighter, his hand curling into a fist. He only barely keeps himself from turning into Speedball. Not in public! Not even in a place as crazy as this. Play dumb, instead.

"Listen -- uh, whoever you are. I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

[mathemanic]

Flail. Oh, for the love of Feynman, the boy doesn't even recognise him and this place is giving him a migraine.

"You usually do not, trust me. I'm used to it. Now listen--whatever this is has turned your eigenvectors completely... it's regressed the quantum zeno torsion along the--alpha string. The numbers have to be rebalanced within the entire second dirac field or your timeline could de-spiral itself!"

[nipplefaucets]

"Stiiiill don't know what you're talking about. Beginning to think I don't really care."

[mathemanic]

"Aaagh." Frustrated sound. "You haven't changed. Don't change. Won't change. Blasted--temporal grammar. If I do not get you back to the base--assuming there still is a base--and solve this, I am certain I'll be blamed for the entire thing.... Just--come back with me and I'll explain everything."

Oy. Numbers are his thing, NOT diplomacy. Clearly.

[nipplefaucets]

"I think I'm gonna pass, bucko. What 'base'?"

[mathemanic]

He sighs and pushes his hair back from his forehead. "You don't remember. That is the problem. I--look, forget the base, then.... this--maybe I can do something now--though I doubt it with the instability here--everything is delta-shifted...."

[nipplefaucets]

"How about not." Something a bit firmer in his voice. Like hell he's letting one of these Psionex loons 'do something' to him. Even if it means breaking cover.

[mathemanic]

Ohcrap.

Time to talk fast and think faster.

"Look, if I was out to harm you, I'd hardly be standing here and talking about it, would I? I'm trying--to help. Now this'll only be a moment."

With his hands up in a placating gesture, he squints. Blast, everything is still blurred, and he can't quite catch the stream.

[nipplefaucets]

Gloves off.

"We saw what happened the last time you tried to 'help,' Tom." He stomps on the floor, hard -- and there's the bubbles, yes. Poing goes Robbie, over the back of the chair, and it's Speedball that lands behind it.

"You try to do anything to me and the only math you'll be doing is counting how many teeth you have left."

[mathemanic]

"splj--what? Oh, for the--look, you just flipped the entire bracket...."

He's in la-la-number-land.

[nipplefaucets]

Poing poing poing.Around and behind him, for a warning smack to the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt Tom... much. "Dude! No -- means -- no!"

[mathemanic]

He's hit and stumbles. And is distracted. Well, that just tangles everything up and he vanishes completely. And you're safe from having your timeline pulled the right way round by its numbers... theoretically.

[nipplefaucets]

...well. Oops?

He'll come back though... right?