Crack crackity crack on a stick.

[mm_pyth]

So there's a shortish, slightly adorable, very unfashionably dressed brunette wandering the bar.

Specifically, she's out back.

With a bicycle pump, an inflatable pool, and a fairly repetitive selection of curses for when either object fails to cooperate.

Do come ask her what she's doing. It'll be a while before the real crack arrives.

Comments

[the_brain_man]

...how the fuck did this happen?

Okay, so there are several logical facts one can apply to this situation in order to not just flail about in shock. (Or, at least, not do that more than she has anyway.) One: Milliways is full of crack and occasionally runs a body-swap or two, and they do not last forever. (That goes a hell of a long way towards reassurance.) Two: Certain MilliSylar threads that stick out in Caz's memory involve him being locked in the cells and generally making a nuisance of himself, and so whether or not this is actually him, it'd likely be a good idea to keep a general policy of avoidance for... lots of people. (That goes a hell of a long way away from reassurance.)

On a side-note, the one power she has most trouble remembering in-thread is Dale's super-hearing. This is ironic, because right now it's the one she's having the most trouble ignoring. That and the intuitive aptitude. It's quite possible that this isn't MilliSy, actually, because if this is Milliways post-wish then dear God she doesn't even want to think about what it looked like before.

(Though it cannot be denied that this particular perception filter is fucking awesome.)

Whether the following segue should be 'and on top of that' or 'on the bright side', but either way, the sentence should end 'she's fucking Sylar.'

Though the narration should possibly rethink its phrasing.

And that, my friend, was an entirely too long and convoluted way to say: 'there's a not-Sylar at the bar. She (he?) has tea, because it seemed appropriate. He hasn't noticed not-Jasmine yet. This is probably a good thing.'

[green_and_white]

...well, fuck.

No, make that:

"...well, fuck."

Her brain/mouth filter is not at its best right at this very moment.

So that's what being in the presence of someone you once established on feels like.

Weird.

Kind of like being gently tickled on a body part you don't actually have.

Shit.

[the_brain_man]

There's a gentle buzz of conversation in the bar, and not!Jazz's exclamation sails right over it. And even though Caz is fairly certain that she's never heard it before -- she's only ever read Jazz's dialogue, after all -- it still sets off a tremor, in the same way that you don't have to have met a lion before to run away when it roars.

Caz defies the comparison by not (quite) running away. The traditional thing would be for her to do a double-take, but with those tattoos (most are covered, but the ones on Jasmine's arms are still visible) a double-take is not really necessary. Caz goes straight from nought to terrified in about point two of a second.

(She feels kinda sorry for DownSy.)

Yeah, she should say something like 'it's not me' or... something. Let her work on that when her tongue and/or brain unfreezes.

[green_and_white]

She facepalms.

Structural questions aside, it should be a very familiar facepalm.

Caz has seen a lot of it.

Yeah, you know what? Nothing says Pyth has to deal with people being (rightly) terrified of her current body. Let Sylar flee or have a panic attack or whatever the fuck. She's just going to sit here and drink her goddamn apple ice.

[the_brain_man]

You know, with what Caz knows about Jazz, coupled with the fear bubbling up from whatever suppressed corner her pup is currently occupying, fleeing and panic attacks are entirely viable options.

...does Torturer Jasmine, fear of Downside, usually wear old PACE t-shirts?

"WHAT."

[green_and_white]

And the apple ice! Don't forget the apple ice!

"--What what?"

That really does not sound like Jazz. At all.

[the_brain_man]

Also, it might just be her nationality speaking, but Caz never imagined Jazz as sounding quite so Canadian.

You don't get over fear quite so quickly as all that, at least not entirely, but she does recover well enough to gape for several seconds as her brain wrestles with itself, and then to demand, eloquently: "But-- wait-- are you not--"

(Did Sylar always sound quite so flustered and English?)

[green_and_white]

"...oh sweet fuck, what the shit is this?"

She runs a hand through her (too fucking short) hair and stands up (too fucking tall).

"What-- what-- fucking what?"

(Definitely Canadian.)

(Definitely vulgar and incoherent.)

(Definitely confused.)

[the_brain_man]

"Fucking," agrees Caz, with feeling, though she seems to lose the thread of the sentence somewhere in the profanity. "Yeah."

...

"This sounds really bad, but thank everloving Christ that's you in there." This? This is a very Caz face. You know the one where her expression isn't sure what to do with itself, so it all sort of goes in every available direction? That one. "That is you, right?" Obviously yes, but she doesn't always set great store by her own judgement, and this is something to be one thousand per cent certain about.

[green_and_white]

"Yeah, that's-- I mean-- come on, right?"

The apple ice is raised; the PACE logo gestured at.

"What d'you fucking think?"

The wry sheepish grin slides awkwardly onto Jasmine's face, and then slides just as awkwardly right back off again when Pyth adds, "Y'know, it's really fucking weird hearing your accent out of that face. I mean. Seriously, eh?"

[the_brain_man]

It's probably also fucking weird to see that face take on a look of relief and sheepish apology. It's just not built for it.

"Yeah, in the, um, the annals of really stupid questions."

There is even scratching of the back of the neck. "I dunno about the accent, but it's fucking weird having such a deep voice. I feel like I'm gargling rocks."

Beat.

"On the bright side, I can do this."

And then there is a patented Sylar stare. She's always been held back before by a deficiency in eyebrows.

[green_and_white]

Snort.

"Wow, that's. Um. Fucking creepy, to be honest. In a... kind of good way?"

(Beat.)

"--I'm not even going to try a Jazz look, here. Either I'll fail and it'll be hilarious or I'll succeed and you'll fucking run screaming."

Rueful glance down at her elbows, which are... interestingly decorated at the moment.

[the_brain_man]

"Oh oh oh oh and!"

Now that they've somehow, abruptly gotten onto the topic of the ways in which this is actually pretty cool: "I'm finally teleki-fucking-netic!"

OBSERVE, PYTH.

OBSERVE THE FLOATING TEACUP. (And finally understand why there's so much of the drink on the bartop.)

OBSERVE THE GLEE.

[green_and_white]

She grins.

"Okay, awesome. Yeah, Jazz doesn't come with much in the way of cool superpowers."

"--not ones that I'm actually willing to use, at least. Uh. Fucking dammit. My luck, eh?"

[the_brain_man]

"Try it and I'll flip a truck at you," Caz beams.

Woah. Moodswings.

"Oh oh oh, and I have other stuff as well! I think he's from mid- to end-season one, 'cause I have that eidetic thing going on. I haven't tried blowing anything up. I iced my tea. I have that fucking hearing thing. Oh-- I should probably try drawing the future, right? 'Cause that would be awesome. And..." Having crossed over to where Pyth is sitting at some point in that rant, she's standing and snapping her fingers, trying to call up the information from amongst the thousand million memories that aren't going anywhere. "What else?"

[green_and_white]

"Don't know, but yeah, like you could do shit with that truck if I got control on you."

Blink.

"--whoa, unexpected bitchiness. No idea where that came from. Sorry, darling." The apologetic smile is near-immediately overtaken by a look of near-comically shocked dismay. "Shit, don't tell me that was Jazz. Oh, fuck. Fucking, fucking possessed pups. Fucking fuck."