(no subject)
Harry's Bar
An old tavern that stands from Revolutionary Times, Harry's is a common hide-away place for humans and mutants alike, although surprisingly quite a bit of the latter can be found, for all of the owner's devil-may-care attitude towards them. Modestly furnished in dark woods, it holds a relaxed, comfortable atmosphere that appeals to many, although almost never crowded. Up against one wall stretches the bar itself with several red leather barstools stationed in front of it and an impressive selection, behind the counter. Most of the rest of the room, however, is occupied by a few tables and booths, for people to dine at. Definitely not any kind of white-collar establishment, but the company it keeps is good.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Bridget ]
A car rolls to a stop outside Harry's, expelling a single occupant. The occupant in question ambles in no great hurry to the bar building), inside to proceed to the bar bar). "Evening, Harry. You got any late night munchies to fill me up on the way home?"
Sitting at the bar a little ways from Jareth, Bridget is making herself comfortable, in front of her, two glasses. One empty and the other containing a decent amount of Sprite. Tsk, no alcohol? She turns her head to the munchie seeking teacher and gives a small smile in greeting. "Hello Jareth."
Harry offers confirmation and slips away to retrieve something suitable. Jareth assumes a perch atop one of the stools, and his thumbs proceed to engage in, if not war, a minor border skirmish. Upon those two words, first his eyes, followed by the remainder of his head, turn to cast his attention down the rest of the bar. Any reply he provides comes deadpan and acerbic. "Hello, Clarice."
"I don't believe fava beans are served at this establishment, Mr. Lecter." Bridget answers back, waving him over to the seat next to her. "Although, the grilled cheese is Maahvelous, absolutely maaaaahvelous."
Jareth snaps a grunt of distaste and fixes across the bar again. "Grilled cheese doesn't go nearly as well with a nice chianti." He lets fly several incoherent, seemingly displeased mutters and a sigh. A beat goes by after the latter, and he sets a pointedly - and exaggeratedly - suspicious gaze on Bridget. "Should I expect you here every time I am?"
"As I said before," the librarian says as she leans a bit forward on the bar, her eyes set in Jareth's direction, "I come here to gather my thoughts. I come here a lot."
Another moment elapses, and Jareth's shoulders straighten to herald a brightening of expression just as rapid. "Right, then. Carry on." He raises a thumb and smiles, then raises himself from the stool to close the distance by several separations of stool. "I figured it wasn't me you were after. Counting on me being here at the same time is a bad way to try stalking."
A slight grimace appears and quickly fades into one more neutral as she lifts her drink, looking to the condensation on the outer part of the glass, "I'm sure you have enough to deal with in terms of adoring students with an undying love for talk of superstring theory than to deal with librarian stalkers." She wraps her lips on the edge of the container as it tilts, taking in the clear bubbly liquid.
Atop an adjoining stool, Jareth makes use of the object's construction and spins briefly this way and that. "I have yet to receive any students named Hawking, or Feynman, or Kaluza-Klein." His eyes flick to Bridget as he spins to a stop. "Could be worse if you're a librarian stalker. You could be a muscle-bound guy named Conan."
The glass is set back on its coaster as the woman looks to her arm and flexes it, "Nope, not very muscle-bound here." The limb relaxes as she looks to Jareth, "And I believe my name is still Bridget. I think you're in the clear."
Jareth effects a show of relief, shoulders drooping again as he lets loose a breath. "Well, that'll help me sleep easier. I don't know if I could manage having a fan with a sword and a loincloth and who looks astoundingly like the governor of California." He fixes back on her, the thought quickly and forcibly expelled from his expression. "So what thoughts are you gathering tonight?"
Bridget's gaze stray from Jareth as they focus on a point to the left of him. "Oh, you know, things learned, things recalled, things to ignore. Just sorting them out in my head."
Jareth's own gaze remains nonchalantly poised on Bridget. His fingers drum on the bar in rhythmic evaluation, during which he takes a turn to look elsewhere. "Things learned. Have you figured out the answer to life, the Universe, and everything?"
"Key to the Universe? Oh that's just the number 45," Bridget replies, tracing a fingertip along the glass rim, "I'm back to trying to figure out why the hell I do certain things. That seems to be more of a puzzle. I'm also thinking about making adjustments to a new AiBO program."
One brow raises as Jareth fixes Bridget with a more intent look. "45? Only if it's inceased by three due to inflation." His head tips to the side, discarding this in favor of the next choice of conversation. "What sort of things and program?"
"Yes, 45. Quite a surprise there," The answer comes, as Bridget glances to the ceiling, a sigh escaping from her lips before she continues, "It's sort of a miniature search and rescue program of sorts."
Jareth continues to regard Bridget in ways deadpan and unconvinced. "I'm sure Douglas Adams would be delighted to hear that. Especially here, where he can then readily drink." This also passes, and his expression again lightens. "They make AIBOs in St. Bernard models now?"
"No, I'm just trying out a few ideas with a pair of ERS-7M3 models, working on some of the logic within the program. Although, the physical limitations of the dogs hinder what they can actually do with what I have so far." She gives a soft smile, "Most likely a waste of time but I'm curious to what they can do."
Interest spawned of his favored milieu kindles a light in Jareth's eyes and sets him to gesturing as he speaks. "The bodies desperately need improvement. The engineers at Sony do what they can, but still. Of course, a body with any high level of capability would also probably require selling your firstborn." A light of knowing familiarity flickers through his eyes, there and gone. "I tried making my own better programming back in my college days. Not just improved logic, but the whole damn thing."
"My sister works over with Sony's R and D department right now," Bridget offers in response about Sony, "One of the dogs I'm working with was hers actually. They are making a little bit of progress with the robotics. I believe there is even work on a suit that helps with movement that they are developing." Eyes once again find themselves moving towards Jareth, a task not hard to accomplish with the guy right next to her, "So you made your own programming language and methods?"
Jareth's brows raise again, light still shining. "Really? There's a fun job. I would love getting to play with things like that all day." A finger waves in recognition. "Or that robot from Honda that can dance and walk up stairs. All the cool stuff comes out of Japan." His head shakes. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm not so whacked as to make my own language. I mean I tried improving on the idea of AIBOs."
"So you made your own version of an AIBO?"
Helpless not to smile some amount, Jareth does just that. "It worked rather well."
The seat of the barstool rotates so that the rest of the librarian's body is facing Jareth, eyes wide and grin matching for one very warm, excited look, "Do you still have it?"
If the light of the eyes flickers to whatever extent, it is not without reason. Somewhere in the corridors of Jareth's mind springs an image of hapless librarians clinging to the tops of chairs while a creature of nightmare sits in contented puzzlement below. Nonetheless, after an uncertain moment, honesty wins. "I do, actually."
Sweet. "Would it be too much to ask if I could see it sometime?"
As before, enthusiasm battles uncertainty for dominance, with victory falling this time to the latter. Jareth spends a long moment attempting to extract some clue from the window of Bridget's eyes and expression. "What's the strangest thing you consider yourself to tolerate?"
"Strangest thing to tolerate?" Bridget's expression turns to that of befuddlement. Cocking her head to the side and arching an eyebrow. "Well, I consider myself for the most part open-minded. Why?"
Chairs and perching librarians fill the mental imagery again. Jareth's fingers tap on the bar again while he continues to debate answers with himself. "Well, I made it kind of strangely, is all."
"Oh." Bridget's closest hand to the bar finds itself resting upon it while the other reaches up to scratch the underside of the ear, the head tilted to look towards the glass display behind the bartender, "Well, considering all the strange things I've dealt with since coming here, as well as odd emergency calls I've used to run, I don't think an unconventional AI design is going to put me through a loop."
The pressure of Jareth's fingers against the bar eases, as does the degree of subtle tension throughout the rest of him. Relieved for the opportunity of diversion, he is quick to seize on it. "What sort of strange things?"
"Ok, well maybe not strange," She corrects herself, "It's more puzzling. I swear I must run into more mutants than I do non-mutants. Not that there isn't anything wrong with that, but isn't the ratio of mutant to non-mutant a little skewed in New York or something? I could have sworn that the number of u- them would be a little smaller. I only move here around April and I've already seen gravity control, healing factors, things being blown up, superhuman strength, branch growing things, and well, that's a lot in just two months."
A moment goes by while Jareth settles himself, tamping down the unease of the prior issue. During that moment, his response is reduced to several concurring nods. "They say New York is the center of everything, and damned if it doesn't seem to hold true for mutant population, too." His eyes flash curious and probing, smoothed a moment later back to something less overtly intent. "The number of who?"
"The number of mutants," Bridget amends, stool spinning her body towards the bar, head drooping down to allow herself to watch the bubbles in her drink, "Okay, I know that living here can have it's benefits but, do we have like half the world's mutant population soley in New York?"
Jareth maintains his attention fairly fixedly on Bridget, curiosity still ablaze in mind and eyes alike. "It certainly seems that way sometimes. Other times, half seems like a low estimate." He tugs a finger slowly back and forth across the bar, still intent on her. "I meant more your shift in mid-sentence."
Yes, bubbles were interesting. Keep watching them go poppity pop pop as they break the surface of the liquid. "What shift?"
Interesting enough, apparently, to draw Jareth to study them for several moments. So doing, perhaps, also relieves her of his curiosity focused on her. "Sounded like you were about to say 'us.'"
"Oh." The fingers strum on the countertop slowly before a weak smile is given to Jareth. "Oops?"
Jareth angles several leisurely degrees backward on his own stool, slowly tipping forward and back. He quirks a matching, if slightly broader smile, and his brows hoist in concurring emphasis. "Oops."
"Yes, /definitely/ an oops." The semi-smile stays, "Um, Any chance we could just, ignore that?"
Jareth effects a casual shrug, leaning more on the bar. "We could, if you want me to feel less easy about you seeing AIBO Plus."
The smile is now gone and replaced with a small pout, "Okay fine, yes, I'm one." Behold the power of AiBOs.
It falls to Jareth, then, to maintain a smile, which he does. "How easy do you think it is for one person to improve on code that it took a company's entire design team to produce?" Still watching, he lifts a nearby glass of water and downs a swallow.
"Not very," Bridget answers, "But I'm guessing from the lead in that it was easy for you?"
Jareth, quite simply, snorts. "Hell, no. I had a thesis worth of notes, plans, and other crap by the time I was done. Just the actual coding was easier, but I still have to figure out what the code will be like anyone else."
"So, were you trying to hint to something earlier then?"
Jareth fixes an odd but flat gaze on Bridget and briefly stares. "I'm not the father."
Bridget's head tilts once more as she considers this statement, "Um, I'm going to assume you mean that you had help with the AiBO then?"
Jareth coughs lightly and shifts his gaze around. "I'm channeling soap operas. No, I created it. The programming, anyway. I had help creating the body. I hesitated over a visit because she's straight out of doodles by H.R. Giger."
"So, will I get to see the AiBO then?"
Gaze returned to Bridget, Jareth regards her for a moment longer. "I imagine you can. It's a little hectic, though, so it might be a little while."
"Oh," The tone seems momentarily disapointed before she gives another smile and reaches into her backpack to pull out a pen. "Could you e-mail me when you can show me?"
Jareth casts about in search of a piece of paper, before refocusing on Bridget in the realization of her likely possession. "Sure. You're from around here, right, or closer to the city?"
"I live at the Old Brownstone Apartments," Bridget answers, finding a unused napkin to write out her e-mail address, and hand it to Jareth, "And you live at the school, right?"
Jareth nods and takes in the address bit by bit as it scribbles into being. His eyes flick up with this question, and a fractional moment elapses. "Right." He spends another moment sifting through memory of prior mention, but with little true concern, and so the moment passes.
Email address finished along with her name written at the top, she passes the napkin over to Jareth, "There you go. I look forward to checking out your AiBO." The grin on her face is very much for real. Task at hand completed, Bridget gets up from her seat, "I should probably head back home. Take care Jareth, It was great talking to you."
Jareth gathers the napkin and folds it into a pocket. "I imagine you'll enjoy it." He returns the smile and stands likewise, offering a wave before gathering the food brought courtesy of Harry at some indeterminate point. "You, too. Catch you later." Not long after, a car leaves Harry's as it arrived, slipping along through the night.
In which Bridget discovers what Jareth concocts in his free time, and Jareth discovers interesting things about Bridget.
Wee Book Inn
Warm and cozy, this place is well-named. The walls are a simple white and the carpet is an average blue, for most people never give them a second glance. What attracts attention are the shelves upon shelves of books that fill this store, overflowing with literature -- all used but in near-perfect condition, for the Inn has high standards. You want it? They probably have it. They sell harlequin romances, young adult novels, fiction and non-fiction, thick historical books, horror and mystery and erotica, roleplaying guides, children's picture or activity books, and the Harvard Classics and individual collections of all the authors therein. At the back is the reading area, only reached by passing the counter with the owner and his register, ensuring that only those with their own novels or ones that have just been paid for are brought in. The reading areas has several couches, armchairs and lamps, and is where the Inn's resident rumpled tabbycat -- Milo -- spends most of his time, curled up in the lap of whoever will let him sleep on them.
[Exits : [A]partment, and [O]ut ]
[Players : Lorna ]
The science section. With all its many subjects, it can be a confounding maze for a single aisle. With her hair tied by, Lorna is stooped before the shelves, fingering through a lower stack of books. She bites her lip and murmurs the titles to herself as she passes, until her finger falls on a particular find. She tugs it from the vice of literature, and stands with it, flicking through the pages with a studious expression.
Confounding maze or compelling labyrinth, the aisle draws in more. Jareth steps down the aisle with a sureness of movement that bespeaks familiarity. He in turn stops to search the shelves, eyes moving here and there while he faintly hums some tuneless melody. Eventually, he takes note of green hair, and an instant later, the person attached to it. One blink escapes due to the former. "Trying to find something in particular?"
Lorna stretches back to relieve herself of the pain caused from bending over for so long. A finger pauses between the pages. She looks aside at the man, expression edging a smile. "Ah, no-- Not anymore." She waves the small paperback, entitled 'Electricity and Magnetism.' "I'm good."
Jareth moves from the shelves to approach, and his head angles to catch sight of the title, aided by a slight lean. One finger tips toward the book in recognition. "Ah. Trying to become Michaela Faraday?"
Lorna squints an eye at him, smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. "Good guess, but not quite." She waggles the book at him a little, then tucks it against her side. She glances over the packed shelves before them. "How about you? Looking for something?"
One finger taps against Jareth's lips, paired with a small sound of contemplation. "No?" After a moment, he snaps his fingers and points. "I know. Nicole Tesla." A smirk speeds by, and he flicks a glance sideways to the shelves before offering a shrug. "Not all too specifically. I just find this aisle fun."
A laugh flutters from Lorna. "You know your stuff." She leans aside, a thumb hooked through a belt loop. "Same here. Another science buff? And here I thought the species was going extinct." A placid smile slips across her face.
Quite instantly, a smile, perhaps exaggerated, spreads across Jareth's face with a slight tilt of his head. "After hitting the books for as long as it took to pick up that diploma, damn skippy." Just as swift and just as faintly - deliberately - overdone, shock takes the place of the smile. "More science buffs left in the wild? My God." For a moment, his brows draw down in thought, followed by a light slap of hand to cheek. "Nope. I'm awake. ...Do you want to get married right now?"
A devious grin pulls across Lorna's expression. "On one condition-- /I/ get to name the kids." She leans forward and offers her free hand up for a shake. "Name's Lorna."
Something of similar deviousness, paired with feigned wariness, appears on Jareth. "Let me guess. Nicole and Michaela?" The something is gone, replaced by a simple mirrored smile, devious and all. "Done, then." He reaches to gather her hand, for first a shake and then to provide a light hoist to her feet. "Jareth."
A wry smile replies to his expression. She shakes the hand briskly, then steps back to her former spot. "Jareth, huh? Nice to meet you." The book is shifted to her other side, while freed fingers comb back straying bangs. "Live around here, or do you just like the place?"
Jareth twirls a hand and inclines some degree toward Lorna. "That's me." Once straightened, he wags a finger. "Unlike namesakes of mine, though, I don't abscond back to my own kingdom with baby brothers, even if a request starts with 'I wish.'" His fingers grasp at his chin abruptly, thoughtfully. "Of course, I'd have to have a kingdom first. Still working on that." He coughs. "Uh, no, don't live around here. I just enjoy it."
Lorna dips her head and grins. "/That's/ nice to know. Although it wouldn't be such a bad thing to be whisked away these days." Her expression dims, lips forming a tight line. That smile is quickly recovered, however. "Well, that's good. I like this place."
One brow lifts in the opposite direction this time, hoisting upward as Jareth levels a quizzical look. His thumbs hook on the edges of his pockets, and he leans lightly on a nearby shelf. "Why would you want to be whisked away?"
"The world's gone crazy," Lorna says. "Who wouldn't want a vacation?" Likewise, Lorna leans her hip against a shelf. She looks up at the fluorescent lit ceiling, lips pulling aside thoughtfully. She looks back at him, brows furrowing. "Come on, don't say a trip to Cancun doesn't sound nice right about now."
Jareth offers silence for the course of several moments, gaze eventually drifting from Lorna to the shelves just behind - adjacent, from his view. His eventual reply is a simple nod, now looking farther toward the floor. "Mmm." After another moment, he turns back to her. "So we get hitched and sneak off for a honeymoon sunning our pale geek behinds on the Pacific coast?"
Lorna leans forward with a laugh. A coquettish smile sweeps across her expression, brows angling above those green eyes. "Sounds like an /awesome/ plan to me. Pick a day. I'm there." She pushes away from the shelf with a chuckle. "I could definitely use a little UV, and fellow geek company."
The devil's own mischief fills Jareth's answering smile, and his arm shakes loose of a pocket to allow him a glance to his watch. "If we can figure a rapid way to cover long distances, we can hit the beaches, have lively pillow talk over wormholes, and be back for dinner with no one the wiser." Another smile conjures itself. "Scandalous."
Curious flirtation fills her face. "Oooo. Wormholes... Are you /flirting/ with me, sir?" Another devious grin flits across her face. "At this rate, I think we're going to have to get into an astrophysics chat." She rests her free hand on a hip, leaning sideways with a serious smile. "I think we should hit that chapel before rush hour traffic kicks in."
Wide-eyed, Jareth blinks. "Flirting? I thought we were talking about wormholes." Another blink, more laden with seeming realization, and his lips form a ring. "Oh. Right." His brows hoist soon after, and he aims feigned reproach, mingled with equal mirth. "Astroph- Madam, if you continue speaking of such things, I will not be held responsible for any public actions that may cause fainting in grandmothers." The reproachful portion dissolves, and he casts a glance to a window, then turns back to offer an arm. "I think we must."
Playful laughter rings down the aisle. Lorna, with mock sincerity, accepts the arm and skips up the aisle with a hop. However, she releases him with trailing mirth and spins on a heel to face him again. "Really, though. I should probably buy this and check off to the coffee shop." She waves the book, looking at its cover briskly. "I need to get back home," she says, a hint of regret in her tone.
Another willfully overstated smile takes its place across Jareth's face as he slides his arm around hers. Several humming notes of "Here Comes the Bride" pass from him, until interrupted with her release. He answers with a somber nod, and sighs in equally overstated fashion. "I guess the honeymoon will just have to wait. And here I looked forward to sitting around in bed all day, giving movies the Mystery Science Theater treatment."
"Ha!" Lorna puffs a sigh of disappointment. "Ah, well." She steps back, stooping with a grin and wink before righting herself again, hands folded behind her back along with the book. "We will definitely have to do that over coffee sometime. You... come here often?"
Jareth's thumbs hook into his pockets again, and he props his weight toward one foot. Mischief fills his eyes and smile alike. "Coffee? Pfft. Something more caffeinated, especially if we mock movies well into the night." His expression droops to mild reproach, and he shakes his head. "Come here often? Come on. We're already engaged and past the cheesy pickup lines. But yes, sometimes."
Lorna shoves at him with the book. "Cheesy? Hey, don't /flatter/ yourself. I was /asking/. New York's a big place, and I could use a few more familiar faces." Her voice becomes flat and edged with a haughty tone. "Besides, you've proven /mildly/ entertaining." A soft smile claims her lips. She steps back slowly towards the register, where another person is already checking out.
Jareth is just as quick to retort with a poke, if not forceful or intent. "Not everyone's a mind reader." His outward mirth, perhaps dimmed with the shove, withers a degree with the tone, but he smirks nonetheless. "Well, if I've been sufficiently entertaining, then I shall delay your majesty no longer." With a turn to the side, he twirls a hand and gestures with both arms along the open aisle. "Don't forget, we'll need tickets for Cancun. Or Scotty and a transporter."
The sarcasm and play in Lorna's air dissipates. She offers Jareth a fond smile and chuckles softly. "Yea, I'll see you then. I'll find Scotty." With the book clutched gingerly against her midriff, the green haired woman steps down the isle. "It shouldn't be /too/ hard to find a transporter around here." Lorna winks at him in passing and heads up to the register, placing the book onto the counter. The man behind it grabs it, rings it up, and tells her the price, and she responds by giving him a ten from her handbag.
In which Lorna and Jareth are utter geeks.