Unducking Application--Temperance Brennan (Bones)
“I don’t remember being here.” Temperance Brennan hated the phrase ‘wandering aimlessly,’ but as she looked around, confused, she couldn’t help but admit to herself that that’s what she was doing. Completely lost in her thoughts, she jumped when she heard a voice behind her.
But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,/If your Snark be a Boojum! For then/You will softly and suddenly..." the Cheshire Cat recites, breaking off when it notices it has company. It's sunning itself, draped belly-up over a parapet of the castle, but with an unsettling upside down smile it vanishes and then reappears on the bridge, just to one side of where the transformation took place.
"Well, h-hi there!" says a squeaky voice. Mickey, beaming, is coming up the bridge from the direction of the central plaza. "It's great to see you again! And isn't it a beautiful day!" He draws in a breath and seems to be a millisecond from zipadee-doo-dahing when the castle's portcullis rattles slightly and drops half an inch. He glances over his shoulder. "Cut it out, fellas! Just a minute..." He pats his newly appeared pockets.
"If you were a book," asks the Cheshire Cat, apparently apropos nothing, "what book would you be?"
“A book?” Brennan stared at the cat, confused. “How is that relevant to anything? And why would I be a book?” She paused for thought, looking around again. “I suppose, if I have to pick, I’d be either an anthropology textbook or one of my own novels. Those are the most logical of the options I can think of. Though it’s not possible to ask me to describe myself, which is what you implied, with one book.”
Mickey has extracted his notebook, and clears his throat. "'Boxers or briefs?'" he reads aloud, and promptly blushes redder than a fire truck.
Putting aside her confusion and slight amusement at the blushing. “Boxers or briefs? Do you mean the men’s underwear?” The confusion was back, and it showed on her face. She hated being confused. “Why would I wear men’s underwear? Unless you’re asking which I prefer. In that case, boxers.”
"Here's another," says Mickey. "List three things you'd do if you ruled the world."
“I wouldn’t want to rule the world,” Brennan replied, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’d be a bad idea. If I have to choose again, though, I guess the first thing I’d do would be to keep on doing what I’m doing now, doing my job. Then I’d do a puzzle, because I imagine ruling the world, solving murders and writing novels would be stressful, and puzzles are relaxing.” She smiled a little, at the thought. “And then I’d find someone else to rule the world.”
The Cat's eyes seem to be wandering in opposite directions. It says, "Is reality best described as (a) an absolute, not reducible to the sum of its parts, (b) the material or phenomenal world, as presented to us through our experiences, (c) fundamentally unknowable, (d) all of the above - please elaborate - or (e) fish?"
“Anthropologically speaking, the answer is D,” she answered. “Everything about reality is objective. You’d have to factor in a number of things to get the proper answer.”
Mickey raises one white-gloved hand as though measuring his own height. "Are you tall enough to go on this ride?"
Temperance raised an eyebrow. “I clearly am.” She looked around again. “But which ride, exactly, are you referring to?”
((OOC: *Waves meekly* I know you've had Brennan before, and I'm going to try my best to pick her up from where the other one left off.))
But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,/If your Snark be a Boojum! For then/You will softly and suddenly..." the Cheshire Cat recites, breaking off when it notices it has company. It's sunning itself, draped belly-up over a parapet of the castle, but with an unsettling upside down smile it vanishes and then reappears on the bridge, just to one side of where the transformation took place.
"Well, h-hi there!" says a squeaky voice. Mickey, beaming, is coming up the bridge from the direction of the central plaza. "It's great to see you again! And isn't it a beautiful day!" He draws in a breath and seems to be a millisecond from zipadee-doo-dahing when the castle's portcullis rattles slightly and drops half an inch. He glances over his shoulder. "Cut it out, fellas! Just a minute..." He pats his newly appeared pockets.
"If you were a book," asks the Cheshire Cat, apparently apropos nothing, "what book would you be?"
“A book?” Brennan stared at the cat, confused. “How is that relevant to anything? And why would I be a book?” She paused for thought, looking around again. “I suppose, if I have to pick, I’d be either an anthropology textbook or one of my own novels. Those are the most logical of the options I can think of. Though it’s not possible to ask me to describe myself, which is what you implied, with one book.”
Mickey has extracted his notebook, and clears his throat. "'Boxers or briefs?'" he reads aloud, and promptly blushes redder than a fire truck.
Putting aside her confusion and slight amusement at the blushing. “Boxers or briefs? Do you mean the men’s underwear?” The confusion was back, and it showed on her face. She hated being confused. “Why would I wear men’s underwear? Unless you’re asking which I prefer. In that case, boxers.”
"Here's another," says Mickey. "List three things you'd do if you ruled the world."
“I wouldn’t want to rule the world,” Brennan replied, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’d be a bad idea. If I have to choose again, though, I guess the first thing I’d do would be to keep on doing what I’m doing now, doing my job. Then I’d do a puzzle, because I imagine ruling the world, solving murders and writing novels would be stressful, and puzzles are relaxing.” She smiled a little, at the thought. “And then I’d find someone else to rule the world.”
The Cat's eyes seem to be wandering in opposite directions. It says, "Is reality best described as (a) an absolute, not reducible to the sum of its parts, (b) the material or phenomenal world, as presented to us through our experiences, (c) fundamentally unknowable, (d) all of the above - please elaborate - or (e) fish?"
“Anthropologically speaking, the answer is D,” she answered. “Everything about reality is objective. You’d have to factor in a number of things to get the proper answer.”
Mickey raises one white-gloved hand as though measuring his own height. "Are you tall enough to go on this ride?"
Temperance raised an eyebrow. “I clearly am.” She looked around again. “But which ride, exactly, are you referring to?”
((OOC: *Waves meekly* I know you've had Brennan before, and I'm going to try my best to pick her up from where the other one left off.))