07 / 10 / 10 - Jean-Paul, Silas, Toby
=XF= Cafeteria - First Floor - Titan Enterprises
This isn't a large cafeteria by any means, but it's fully functional, with a variety of food options and seating for fifty or so souls. Along the walls and in the center of the black-and-white tiled room, chairs surround tables, making them easily configurable for just about any size group. The back wall is taken up by the traditional cafeteria line, where a small selection of food is prepared varyingly every day. A chalkboard near the front of the line lists the day's entree, pasta, vegetables, and soups, while an open refrigerator display at the end offers pre-made sandwiches, salads, and drinks to compliment the soda fountain. Although the pickings are a bit slim - especially when it comes to desserts - the two women who cook for the employees of Titan Enterprises know their stuff, and it is without fail delicious.
Having fully woken up since his side trip to the comissary earlier, Toby has exchanged his sweatpants for jeans. His shirt still remains the one depicting the symbol pi using the numbers of pi for the image and instead of clinging to a box of cereal, he is instead seated at a cafeteria table, munching on a sandwich while a cup of coffee steams away. Open in front of him, a laptop displays an all black screen with white text, uttering the syntax of one of the several programming languages XF computer people choose to use in their day to day work. Fun times. As he's busy eating, Toby's typing slows slightly as his usage of typing fingers is cut in half.
A monster sub sandwich creation gaping open on his tray, Jean-Paul takes a seat at Toby's table mostly because it is centrally placed, and otherwise the scene would be a bit boring now, wouldn't it. He glances at the screen as he comes around, but white text on black equals boring, and he doesn't bother to look any closer. As he mashes the bread down over various veggies, meats, and cheeses, he grunts a greeting.
To the grunted greeting, Toby's eyes shift from the screen over to Jean-Paul, and then to the sandwich. "Afternoon, Jean-Paul. How're you?" He looks to his sandwich now. Yeah, Jean-Paul's is bigger.
Don't worry. It probably means he is compensating for something. (Like a scanty breakfast.) "Fine," says Jean-Paul, less defensive prickle than it is absent brush-off. He nods toward Toby's screen and, in continuation of small talk, he asks, "What are you working on?"
Silas is either bathed in sweat or he just had a shower. Though the fresh, distinct smell of Irish Spring that wafts when he gets closer (thankfully) suggests the latter. At least he's not wearing AXE. His tray holds a salad and a bottle of V8 juice. "Afternoon, gents," he says as he sits down not at their table, but close enough that he might as well be.
Ah, whereas Toby gave himself much more love on the breakfast front. Yes that'll make him feel much better for the small sandwich. Toby glances back to his screen, fingertips typing on only half of the keyboard, "Customized program idea I got while poking around Jenkin's setup. Add a bit more to our own security." To Silas's greeting, he glances up again, looking to the newcomer. "Afternoon, Silas. How're you?"
"Afternoon." Jean-Paul glances toward Silas' tray and finds nothing to object to in salad and V8. The food critic holds his tongue to take a bite and look back to Toby. "Oh," he says, a little vague once he has swallowed. "Like to keep people from breaking in to our computers?"
"Not bad, Toby. Brave man to eat with your laptop right there. I did that once and I ended up getting sesame seeds lodged under all the keys." Silas makes a face. "Took me three months to pay my boss back for a replacement. Damn me and my bagel addiction. The uh, cream cheese might have been problematic too." He tears open a packet of balsamic vinagrette and drizzles it over his salad. He nods towards Jean-Paul. "Heya."
Toby nods, "Computer security is an ongoing process and no system is perfect. Best you can do is find the flaws before someone else does." Fingertips pausing, Toby glances over to Silas, "It's not like I don't know how to fix them."
"Maybe you shouldn't have rubbed your bagel into the keyboard." Jean-Paul offers the suggestion quite evenly, with perhaps a hint of implied criticism in the arch of his eyebrows. If he teases, he does so in very dry fashion. To Toby, he just says, "Sure," like one of those guys who has no idea.
"Yeah, you'd think that, huh? But the laptop just looked so damn hungry." The edges of Silas' lips pull up, but not quite into a smile. He shakes the can of V8 and pops the top. "Technology and I have a tenative truce. We don't ask too much of each other and it's all good."
"And with people like you guys around I shall have job security." Toby murmurs, typing away again, "At least when it comes to tech support."
Arching his eyebrow at Silas, Jean-Paul says, "You have to learn to say no." To hungry laptops. He lifts a few fingers from their wrap around his sandwich in a vague gesture at Toby's words. "Not everyone can say that. Reassuring, at least."
"Glad to be of service," says Silas before he slurps a mouthful from the can of juice. "I learned my lesson with food around technology. So I promise to never bring you a keyboard jammed with seeds."
"I know what I'm good at," Toby replies to Jean-Paul before pausing to lean towards his own sandwich, "Good to know, Silas. I will hold you to that."
Silas chuckles and then takes a big bite of his salad. Mmm, veggies. "I can't promise I won't ever have a problem. I'm not a dunce with computers, but if a weird error is gonna happen or if a fan is going to give out, chances are it'll give out while I'm using it."
The programmer's lips quirk into an amused smile. "Ah. The 'why does everything happen to me' syndrome." Toby muses, "If you use something enough, things will wear out. It's not necessarily you." The sandwich is set down on the wrapper as he reaches over for his coffee, "Well, the food's all you." He leans over for a sip.
"But there's odds, right? If it's a shared piece of equipment, it usually broke down when I got my hands on it. It got so bad for a little while there, my boss actually speculated it might have something to do with my power." Silas chases a baby tomato around on his plate before finally managing to spear and eat it. "Turned out to just be a run of bad luck."
"Odds increase with the age of the device and the age and quality of the components in it," Toby dismisses, setting the cup down, "Computer support in the business world thrive on recycling parts to save money. If you're talking just hard disk failures and fans busting and you're not actively smacking, kicking or flinging crap into it, worst thing you have is bad timing." He picks up his sandwich again, "Now, if you do something like deleting folders that contain key things for the operating system to function with, that's stupidity. For you and the person who gave you access permissions to actually do that."
Eat-eat-eating his sandwich as the other two men talk, Jean-Paul glances from one to the next as he tracks the conversation. Eyebrow arching at Silas, he looks about to say something before his gaze flips instead to Toby. "I really hope we don't have agents stupid enough to delete key system files. Can you imagine what kind of idiocy that would translate to on a mission?"
"I was speaking from a general perspective," Toby replies, waving his typing hand dismissively, "I would assume that there are enough checks in place to prevent someone of that particular level of handicap from doing such a thing. It's basically the whole point of separate user and administrative accounts for a computer. To cut down on the stupid shit." Nom nom nom.
"Oh trust me. If I don't understand it, I don't go poking at it." Silas pauses to think for a moment and chew. "Come to think of it, that's a good life-rule in general. Or at least, ask someone who does know before poking at it."
At Toby's reply, Jean-Paul flicks a glance toward the ceiling in a wordless invocation for patience. It isn't quite an eyeroll, but there's something of the same flavor to it. "I am sure you will live a longer life that way," he says to Silas before he finishes the last of his sandwich.
Toby chews. Guy's got to eat his sandwich at some point.
"Hell, it's why I've lived this long," says Silas. Given his previous job was dealing with exposing peoples' secrets, he's probably not exaggerating. He chases a few more vegetables around his plate and forces them into the dressing before munching.
"God grant it continue to do so," Jean-Paul says as he rises with a sketched gesture at the other two men. "See you around," he says as farewell, picking up his tray to pass it and the trash off before leaving.
"Mmph mmph." Cheeks puffed out with food inside, Toby lifts up a hand to give Jean-Paul a wave.
"Have a good afternoon," says Silas to the departing Jean-Paul. He looks back to Toby and points to his own lip. "You gotta little...mustard or somethin'."
Lunchtime.