Big Bang Theory/Psych: Iron Horse (Sheldon, Gus; G; ~930w).
Sheldon, Gus; G; ~930w.
How they become roommates. "It's as if you read my mind, provided of course that such a thing weren't physically impossible and intensely undesirable," Sheldon said.
Iron Horse
"Two hundred questions?" Burton said, looking at the sheaf of papers in his hand. In the other he held his suitcase. "You've got to be kidding me."
Sheldon blinked. "I find nothing the least bit amusing about the fact that I'm being forced by the school's completely unreasonable administration to share my living space. Now, there are three bonus questions at the end, which if you have time leftover, I highly recommend you complete." He almost-smiled at Burton indulgently. "It can only help your score, as those will be the only questions on which you can't obtain negative values. Though I'm not usually one to encourage guessing, you may do so and you will not be docked."
Burton's brow furrowed. "Negative values? You mean, if I get a question wrong in the normal section, I don't simply get a zero, I get a negative one?"
Sheldon held up a finger. "Negative one is only the starting point. My last candidate for cohabitation was deducted twenty-two points for refusing to divulge his gastrointestinal biorhythms. I mean, really. With a shared waste disposal unit in the room it's not as if I couldn't deduce it through observation, anyway."
"What are you, the Sherlock Holmes of bodily functions?" Burton said, chuckling.
Sheldon considered. "Although the presupposition that it takes the deduction skills of the great detective to ascertain the schedule dictating a person's biological intakes and outputs is ridiculous, I will grant that I am a powerhouse of observational acuity the likes of which you have probably never seen."
Burton tried to look past Sheldon's shoulder into the room but Sheldon leaned directly into his line of sight. "Ah-ah-ah. No peeking before you've finished."
"You mean I have to take the test in the hallway?" Burton said incredulously, his jaw dropping.
"What, you think I'm going to let a complete and total stranger into my room?" Sheldon said, looking at Burton like he'd just said gravity was more of a suggestion than a law. "To get a probationary period you're going to need to score at least a ninety-five percent, and then there'll be a follow-up in which we will carefully dissect the roots of the incorrect logic that led you to the wrong answers and maybe, just maybe once that is complete, will I consider dropping my officially lodged complaint with the administration protesting their gross negligence in saddling me with a burden that threatens to both disrupt my academic and mental equilibrium."
Burton narrowed his eyes at Sheldon. He seemed to be sizing him up.
Sheldon tilted his head to the side. "This is generally the part where the prospective intruder makes some sort of thinly-veiled allusion to my social incompetence. 'I can't imagine why no one else has wanted to room with you' and 'How did your mother not strangle you in the crib?' are the two most popular choices to date, though 'Thank God you'll never reproduce' is gaining by leaps and bounds."
Burton smiled. "Thank you, I'll keep those in mind. Is this a timed exercise?"
"Well, if you're not done by 4AM the janitor might start mopping around you, but no. There's no upper limit on the essay portions, and there are extra sheets on the clipboard if you need them." Sheldon held out his hand. "And an ergonomic pen designed to prevent wrist strain."
Burton inclined his head and took it with alacrity. "Thank you, sir." He turned sharply on his heel and walked down the hall.
Sheldon watched him go. "Fascinating."
*
Sheldon's eyes blinked rapidly -- about seven hundred times a minute -- at the results on the laptop.
"How did I do?" Burton said, leaning his head into the doorframe just a bit, where Sheldon was holding out the display between them.
"A hundred percent," Sheldon said wonderingly, as if he could barely speak.
Burton grinned, his rows of beautiful, cavity-free teeth gleaming.
"How did you --? How is this --?"
"Please," Burton said, smiling smugly and brushing his thumb along his nose. "Who would answer arginine? Lysine is clearly the superior choice." He smoothed his hand over his sweatervest. "I do pride myself on my test-taking prowess."
"And your essay," Sheldon said, holding up the sheets of paper and shaking them. "This is inspired."
"Well, I could have gone on -- there are far more than 100 reasons that Spock should be the Captain -- but there's a rather nice roundness to that number."
"It's as if you read my mind, provided of course that such a thing weren't physically impossible and intensely undesirable," Sheldon said, clutching the manifesto to his chest like it was a precious child. "What did you say your name was, again?"
"Burton Guster."
Sheldon narrowed his eyes, a bit suspiciously, as if all of this seemed too good to be true. "And how do you feel about trains?"
"I am a ferroequinologist of the first degree, of course." Burton said. "I can recite the entire Amtrak schedule from memory."
Sheldon's eyes may have well as turned into hearts for all the emotions that -- awkwardly and with some muscle tics -- flooded his face. "Do you have a dream of traveling across the United States solely by the most incredible means of transportation ever created?"
Burton blinked. "Who doesn't?"
"Take it," Sheldon said, holding out the key.
Burton took the key. "Does this mean I can unpack my suitcase?"
"Provided you do so neatly and that you never, ever whistle within the confines of this room."
"Agreed," Burton said, clicking his heels and following Sheldon inside.
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How they become roommates. "It's as if you read my mind, provided of course that such a thing weren't physically impossible and intensely undesirable," Sheldon said.
Iron Horse
"Two hundred questions?" Burton said, looking at the sheaf of papers in his hand. In the other he held his suitcase. "You've got to be kidding me."
Sheldon blinked. "I find nothing the least bit amusing about the fact that I'm being forced by the school's completely unreasonable administration to share my living space. Now, there are three bonus questions at the end, which if you have time leftover, I highly recommend you complete." He almost-smiled at Burton indulgently. "It can only help your score, as those will be the only questions on which you can't obtain negative values. Though I'm not usually one to encourage guessing, you may do so and you will not be docked."
Burton's brow furrowed. "Negative values? You mean, if I get a question wrong in the normal section, I don't simply get a zero, I get a negative one?"
Sheldon held up a finger. "Negative one is only the starting point. My last candidate for cohabitation was deducted twenty-two points for refusing to divulge his gastrointestinal biorhythms. I mean, really. With a shared waste disposal unit in the room it's not as if I couldn't deduce it through observation, anyway."
"What are you, the Sherlock Holmes of bodily functions?" Burton said, chuckling.
Sheldon considered. "Although the presupposition that it takes the deduction skills of the great detective to ascertain the schedule dictating a person's biological intakes and outputs is ridiculous, I will grant that I am a powerhouse of observational acuity the likes of which you have probably never seen."
Burton tried to look past Sheldon's shoulder into the room but Sheldon leaned directly into his line of sight. "Ah-ah-ah. No peeking before you've finished."
"You mean I have to take the test in the hallway?" Burton said incredulously, his jaw dropping.
"What, you think I'm going to let a complete and total stranger into my room?" Sheldon said, looking at Burton like he'd just said gravity was more of a suggestion than a law. "To get a probationary period you're going to need to score at least a ninety-five percent, and then there'll be a follow-up in which we will carefully dissect the roots of the incorrect logic that led you to the wrong answers and maybe, just maybe once that is complete, will I consider dropping my officially lodged complaint with the administration protesting their gross negligence in saddling me with a burden that threatens to both disrupt my academic and mental equilibrium."
Burton narrowed his eyes at Sheldon. He seemed to be sizing him up.
Sheldon tilted his head to the side. "This is generally the part where the prospective intruder makes some sort of thinly-veiled allusion to my social incompetence. 'I can't imagine why no one else has wanted to room with you' and 'How did your mother not strangle you in the crib?' are the two most popular choices to date, though 'Thank God you'll never reproduce' is gaining by leaps and bounds."
Burton smiled. "Thank you, I'll keep those in mind. Is this a timed exercise?"
"Well, if you're not done by 4AM the janitor might start mopping around you, but no. There's no upper limit on the essay portions, and there are extra sheets on the clipboard if you need them." Sheldon held out his hand. "And an ergonomic pen designed to prevent wrist strain."
Burton inclined his head and took it with alacrity. "Thank you, sir." He turned sharply on his heel and walked down the hall.
Sheldon watched him go. "Fascinating."
*
Sheldon's eyes blinked rapidly -- about seven hundred times a minute -- at the results on the laptop.
"How did I do?" Burton said, leaning his head into the doorframe just a bit, where Sheldon was holding out the display between them.
"A hundred percent," Sheldon said wonderingly, as if he could barely speak.
Burton grinned, his rows of beautiful, cavity-free teeth gleaming.
"How did you --? How is this --?"
"Please," Burton said, smiling smugly and brushing his thumb along his nose. "Who would answer arginine? Lysine is clearly the superior choice." He smoothed his hand over his sweatervest. "I do pride myself on my test-taking prowess."
"And your essay," Sheldon said, holding up the sheets of paper and shaking them. "This is inspired."
"Well, I could have gone on -- there are far more than 100 reasons that Spock should be the Captain -- but there's a rather nice roundness to that number."
"It's as if you read my mind, provided of course that such a thing weren't physically impossible and intensely undesirable," Sheldon said, clutching the manifesto to his chest like it was a precious child. "What did you say your name was, again?"
"Burton Guster."
Sheldon narrowed his eyes, a bit suspiciously, as if all of this seemed too good to be true. "And how do you feel about trains?"
"I am a ferroequinologist of the first degree, of course." Burton said. "I can recite the entire Amtrak schedule from memory."
Sheldon's eyes may have well as turned into hearts for all the emotions that -- awkwardly and with some muscle tics -- flooded his face. "Do you have a dream of traveling across the United States solely by the most incredible means of transportation ever created?"
Burton blinked. "Who doesn't?"
"Take it," Sheldon said, holding out the key.
Burton took the key. "Does this mean I can unpack my suitcase?"
"Provided you do so neatly and that you never, ever whistle within the confines of this room."
"Agreed," Burton said, clicking his heels and following Sheldon inside.
[[ dreamwidth entry | reply @ dw |
comments ]]