Remy
X-Men: Movieverse 2 - Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 8:24 PM
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=XF= Computer Lab - Administration - Chemekata Military Base
Glass doors framed by wide panels of tinted glass grant entrance into the center of the junction of three rooms that flow into each other without clear delineation. Running in a long, undulating swath, the computer lab reaches from a cluster of desks heated by the server rooms and winds through benches and more desks to a large projection screen mounted into the wall at the end of a long conference table. A collection of electronic equipment is scattered liberally throughout the lab and at every desk. Some of the desks have gathered personal touches that proclaim them as taken. Others are neat and clean, save for when they're being used as extra counterspace. Smaller rooms and alcoves containing tables, chairs, and even more equipment branch off the main aisle. The wall across from the entrance is covered in maps of varying detail and focus that are often the victims of pins marking information on current and continuing cases. Elsewhere, the walls drip paperwork and photos.
[This room is set watchable. Use alias XFComputerLab to watch here.]
(Exits : [O]ut )
Remy LeBeau is not a lab monkey, a code monkey or any other sort of techno-simian. It is questionable whether he should really be in the computer lab at all. However, superspy that he is, Agent LeBeau has mastered the art of getting in places where he ought not to be. Today, his method of approach is simple: bring coffee to the toiling geeks. Thus, appearing at the door with a triple rap at the panel instead of trying to override the lock, he stands out in the hallway with a cart bearing a fresh urn of coffee and a basket of pastries. Some involve fruit.
Natalie glances up, a frown etched deep across her features as she's distracted from staring at a thick line of computer code. Her chin jerks around, ponytail snapping behind her, and her voice is a little exasperated as she calls, "Don't you have the code?"
"Not on the analysis team," Remy calls back. This is not exactly a firm 'no'. "But I got coffee here in trade." A steaming mug is hoisted invitingly.
Natalie mutters something inaudible on the other side of the door and pushes herself up out of her chair. The lab is quiet at this time of night, with the other late workers apparently having split off to different locales of concentration, and Natalie's kept it dim - only the glow from the monitors lights the space. She pries the door open, holding it for Remy as she retorts, "You really shouldn't be in here if you don't have the code, you know."
"I got a problem with obeyin' rules when I don't see the point of 'em," Remy intones solemnly, as he and the coffee cart trundle in. "It's written up in my psych profile, even. Besides," he notes, letting coffee gurgle enticingly into another cup, redolent with nuanced aromas that speak of something beyond bargain brand beans. "I did promise I'd bring y'some coffee."
"Bet that goes over great with Management," Natalie answers dryly, her forehead still creased with the lines of concentration and her eyes pehaps a little bleary behind their glasses. Her gaze drops down to that cart. "What are you, a barista now?"
"Hey, -they- came t' -me-," Remy offers with insouciance. And with coffee. "And I ain't so much worked at Starbucks, but if y'gonna make somethin', take the time t'learn how to make it right... also," he notes, flashing a grin. "If I make good coffee, it is a statistical fact that I end up gettin' better dirt."
"They come to all of us," Natalie reminds dryly. She waves a hand, stepping back to let him into the dark lab with his cart and a firm note to "Leave that thing by the door. You're just /asking/ for a major disaster," before wondering, "What on earth do you think I have by way of dirt?"
Remy leaves the cart as directed, although his own cup of coffee comes along for the ride with him. "Oh, I got no expectations," he offer up, quiet but good-natured. "I generally lurk until someone gets so frustrated that y'see 'em push back from the screen before they put a fist through it, an' stomp around venting f'a bit. Hit that point yet?"
"You don't have a very high opinion of my breaking point, do you?" Natalie wonders, pausing long enough to pour herself a cup despite her protestations.
"More I got a high opinion of whoever's on the other side o' this t'be as annoyin' as possible t'track down," Remy counters, with a flick of a pinkie finger from where it's wrapped around his coffee mug with the rest of its fellow digits.
Natalie waves a hand, lifting her cup with the other for a slow, appreciative sip. There's a long moment of blissful silence as her eyes close and she simply enjoys the taste, and then she blinks them open again to look at Remy. "I'm actually trying to learn the system - how they got in, how we can keep them out again. It's not my field."
Remy watches Natalie with some satisfaction, as the coffee proves to have been a good call after all. "While I s'pose it's a good thing that we ain't had to have you tap pattern theory to explain the fella, I bet y'got some head-bangin' moments all the same, what with learnin' somethin' new. Ain't seen Pryde in passin' lately when she hasn't look either like she was gonna fall over, or start jitterin' so hard she set off the seismographs."
"I've spent the last 4 years staring at numbers so hard that I thought my brain might fall out," Natalie answers, moving to sink into a chair well away from any computers with a quiet sigh of slow relief. "I'm used to it."
"They started starin' back yet?" Remy wonders, eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Only in the wee hours," Natalie answers, taking another small sip before admitting, "This isn't too bad."
"Feel free t'let the other number-chasers know," Remy assures, before crooking a grin. "Or just keep it all f'yself. But any breaks on figurin' out how he got it?"
Natalie snorts and levels a look at Remy. "Do you think /you/ could pick up X-Factor's computer security in the span of a few days?" she wants to know.
"Hey, sometimes luck's with you," Remy answers, unrepentant about the question as he takes another sip of his coffee. "But," he does admit. "Other times y'just gotta keep playin' the hands y'dealt. I rustled up some baked goods from the kitchen that got left unattended."
Natalie settles a look on Remy, dry as she wonders, "Kaci?"
"Oh, probably," Remy answers, not terribly concerned with just who the 'repurposed' baked goods belonged to. "Figure if it's her, she's in that damn' kitchen so much she ain't likely t'notice the loss... an if she does, I guess I just take a turn and ruin some innocent an' undeservin' flour t'try and make some myself."
"I think she's decided it's her life's mission to feed the entire team," Natalie adds, slumping back in a lazy slouch. "I don't know how she has time to be in there so much. I wouldn't worry. She only gets offended if you /don't/ eat her food."
"Probably shortin' on trainin' somewhere," is Remy's bet, delivered without notable offense at the concept, and with a gulp of his coffee as he settles himself hip-shot against one of the workstations. "She'll figure it out... or she won't. Hope she does, though," he admits, with a lift of the basket of filched pastries in offering. "Be a shame t'loose these."
"You're a shallow man, Remy LeBeau," Natalie answers, but there's not much care in her words, and her tone remains easy, lazy, as she sips at her coffee.
"When it comes t'free dessert, absolutely," Remy agrees, setting the basket back down beside him as Natalie remains content with the coffee. "So, got any theories yet?"
"Tons," Natalie answers, her gaze growing sharply alert again as she focuses on Remy. "All of them kind of terrifying and none of them solid. You?"
"About the same," Remy admits, lips quirked and one hand hooking through a loop of his jeans. "I admit I ain't got access to all the stuff that lets you add refinements t' y'own theories, though. But inside job, I'm bettin'. Question is -how- inside, an' how far up."
"And what the hell's going on with the people on that list," Natalie answers quietly. "It's sinister enough even if you don't start taking mutant options into account."
"No kiddin'," Remy agrees, droppng his hands and the coffee mug held between them to rest between his knees. "D'you know if there's been any luck on -that- score? Findin' out where any of 'em have been headed?"
Natalie shakes her head slowly, expression drawing down into a frown. "None that I've seen."
"Damn." That seems to be an appropriate summary for Remy, for he falls silent for a time, staring into his coffee cup as if looking for absent potential recruits hiding in the depths of the brew. "Have y'managed t'rule anythin' -out-?"
"They probably aren't spontaneously turning into birds and flying north for the summer," Natalie answers, deadpan.
"Well, that is a relief," Remy avers, lifting his coffee to take a sip, and be damned any tiny misplaced mutants swimming in it. "Cleanin' the mess offa the cars' windshields'd be horrendous."
"Har, har," answers Natalie, clearly amused.
"An' if y'thought that bein' hissed at by a goose was bad..." With a shake of his head, Remy pushes back up from his lean against the workstation. "I guess I should let y'get back to communin' with y'ones an' zeros," he says. "But if y'find y'need a break t'do somethin' active later, just buzz my comm an' y'can try throwin' me into a wall a few times."
Natalie's eyes light at that, and she straightens in her chair. "I'm holding you to that one," she answers. "I'm going to need to /move/." She lifts her cup in salute. "Thanks for the coffee."
"My good deed f'the day," Remy names it, and sketches Natalie a playful bow before he pads to the door, lighter by one coffee cart, and lets himself back out into the base proper, ambling for who knows where.
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=XF= Computer Lab - Administration - Chemekata Military Base
Glass doors framed by wide panels of tinted glass grant entrance into the center of the junction of three rooms that flow into each other without clear delineation. Running in a long, undulating swath, the computer lab reaches from a cluster of desks heated by the server rooms and winds through benches and more desks to a large projection screen mounted into the wall at the end of a long conference table. A collection of electronic equipment is scattered liberally throughout the lab and at every desk. Some of the desks have gathered personal touches that proclaim them as taken. Others are neat and clean, save for when they're being used as extra counterspace. Smaller rooms and alcoves containing tables, chairs, and even more equipment branch off the main aisle. The wall across from the entrance is covered in maps of varying detail and focus that are often the victims of pins marking information on current and continuing cases. Elsewhere, the walls drip paperwork and photos.
[This room is set watchable. Use alias XFComputerLab to watch here.]
(Exits : [O]ut )
Remy LeBeau is not a lab monkey, a code monkey or any other sort of techno-simian. It is questionable whether he should really be in the computer lab at all. However, superspy that he is, Agent LeBeau has mastered the art of getting in places where he ought not to be. Today, his method of approach is simple: bring coffee to the toiling geeks. Thus, appearing at the door with a triple rap at the panel instead of trying to override the lock, he stands out in the hallway with a cart bearing a fresh urn of coffee and a basket of pastries. Some involve fruit.
Natalie glances up, a frown etched deep across her features as she's distracted from staring at a thick line of computer code. Her chin jerks around, ponytail snapping behind her, and her voice is a little exasperated as she calls, "Don't you have the code?"
"Not on the analysis team," Remy calls back. This is not exactly a firm 'no'. "But I got coffee here in trade." A steaming mug is hoisted invitingly.
Natalie mutters something inaudible on the other side of the door and pushes herself up out of her chair. The lab is quiet at this time of night, with the other late workers apparently having split off to different locales of concentration, and Natalie's kept it dim - only the glow from the monitors lights the space. She pries the door open, holding it for Remy as she retorts, "You really shouldn't be in here if you don't have the code, you know."
"I got a problem with obeyin' rules when I don't see the point of 'em," Remy intones solemnly, as he and the coffee cart trundle in. "It's written up in my psych profile, even. Besides," he notes, letting coffee gurgle enticingly into another cup, redolent with nuanced aromas that speak of something beyond bargain brand beans. "I did promise I'd bring y'some coffee."
"Bet that goes over great with Management," Natalie answers dryly, her forehead still creased with the lines of concentration and her eyes pehaps a little bleary behind their glasses. Her gaze drops down to that cart. "What are you, a barista now?"
"Hey, -they- came t' -me-," Remy offers with insouciance. And with coffee. "And I ain't so much worked at Starbucks, but if y'gonna make somethin', take the time t'learn how to make it right... also," he notes, flashing a grin. "If I make good coffee, it is a statistical fact that I end up gettin' better dirt."
"They come to all of us," Natalie reminds dryly. She waves a hand, stepping back to let him into the dark lab with his cart and a firm note to "Leave that thing by the door. You're just /asking/ for a major disaster," before wondering, "What on earth do you think I have by way of dirt?"
Remy leaves the cart as directed, although his own cup of coffee comes along for the ride with him. "Oh, I got no expectations," he offer up, quiet but good-natured. "I generally lurk until someone gets so frustrated that y'see 'em push back from the screen before they put a fist through it, an' stomp around venting f'a bit. Hit that point yet?"
"You don't have a very high opinion of my breaking point, do you?" Natalie wonders, pausing long enough to pour herself a cup despite her protestations.
"More I got a high opinion of whoever's on the other side o' this t'be as annoyin' as possible t'track down," Remy counters, with a flick of a pinkie finger from where it's wrapped around his coffee mug with the rest of its fellow digits.
Natalie waves a hand, lifting her cup with the other for a slow, appreciative sip. There's a long moment of blissful silence as her eyes close and she simply enjoys the taste, and then she blinks them open again to look at Remy. "I'm actually trying to learn the system - how they got in, how we can keep them out again. It's not my field."
Remy watches Natalie with some satisfaction, as the coffee proves to have been a good call after all. "While I s'pose it's a good thing that we ain't had to have you tap pattern theory to explain the fella, I bet y'got some head-bangin' moments all the same, what with learnin' somethin' new. Ain't seen Pryde in passin' lately when she hasn't look either like she was gonna fall over, or start jitterin' so hard she set off the seismographs."
"I've spent the last 4 years staring at numbers so hard that I thought my brain might fall out," Natalie answers, moving to sink into a chair well away from any computers with a quiet sigh of slow relief. "I'm used to it."
"They started starin' back yet?" Remy wonders, eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Only in the wee hours," Natalie answers, taking another small sip before admitting, "This isn't too bad."
"Feel free t'let the other number-chasers know," Remy assures, before crooking a grin. "Or just keep it all f'yself. But any breaks on figurin' out how he got it?"
Natalie snorts and levels a look at Remy. "Do you think /you/ could pick up X-Factor's computer security in the span of a few days?" she wants to know.
"Hey, sometimes luck's with you," Remy answers, unrepentant about the question as he takes another sip of his coffee. "But," he does admit. "Other times y'just gotta keep playin' the hands y'dealt. I rustled up some baked goods from the kitchen that got left unattended."
Natalie settles a look on Remy, dry as she wonders, "Kaci?"
"Oh, probably," Remy answers, not terribly concerned with just who the 'repurposed' baked goods belonged to. "Figure if it's her, she's in that damn' kitchen so much she ain't likely t'notice the loss... an if she does, I guess I just take a turn and ruin some innocent an' undeservin' flour t'try and make some myself."
"I think she's decided it's her life's mission to feed the entire team," Natalie adds, slumping back in a lazy slouch. "I don't know how she has time to be in there so much. I wouldn't worry. She only gets offended if you /don't/ eat her food."
"Probably shortin' on trainin' somewhere," is Remy's bet, delivered without notable offense at the concept, and with a gulp of his coffee as he settles himself hip-shot against one of the workstations. "She'll figure it out... or she won't. Hope she does, though," he admits, with a lift of the basket of filched pastries in offering. "Be a shame t'loose these."
"You're a shallow man, Remy LeBeau," Natalie answers, but there's not much care in her words, and her tone remains easy, lazy, as she sips at her coffee.
"When it comes t'free dessert, absolutely," Remy agrees, setting the basket back down beside him as Natalie remains content with the coffee. "So, got any theories yet?"
"Tons," Natalie answers, her gaze growing sharply alert again as she focuses on Remy. "All of them kind of terrifying and none of them solid. You?"
"About the same," Remy admits, lips quirked and one hand hooking through a loop of his jeans. "I admit I ain't got access to all the stuff that lets you add refinements t' y'own theories, though. But inside job, I'm bettin'. Question is -how- inside, an' how far up."
"And what the hell's going on with the people on that list," Natalie answers quietly. "It's sinister enough even if you don't start taking mutant options into account."
"No kiddin'," Remy agrees, droppng his hands and the coffee mug held between them to rest between his knees. "D'you know if there's been any luck on -that- score? Findin' out where any of 'em have been headed?"
Natalie shakes her head slowly, expression drawing down into a frown. "None that I've seen."
"Damn." That seems to be an appropriate summary for Remy, for he falls silent for a time, staring into his coffee cup as if looking for absent potential recruits hiding in the depths of the brew. "Have y'managed t'rule anythin' -out-?"
"They probably aren't spontaneously turning into birds and flying north for the summer," Natalie answers, deadpan.
"Well, that is a relief," Remy avers, lifting his coffee to take a sip, and be damned any tiny misplaced mutants swimming in it. "Cleanin' the mess offa the cars' windshields'd be horrendous."
"Har, har," answers Natalie, clearly amused.
"An' if y'thought that bein' hissed at by a goose was bad..." With a shake of his head, Remy pushes back up from his lean against the workstation. "I guess I should let y'get back to communin' with y'ones an' zeros," he says. "But if y'find y'need a break t'do somethin' active later, just buzz my comm an' y'can try throwin' me into a wall a few times."
Natalie's eyes light at that, and she straightens in her chair. "I'm holding you to that one," she answers. "I'm going to need to /move/." She lifts her cup in salute. "Thanks for the coffee."
"My good deed f'the day," Remy names it, and sketches Natalie a playful bow before he pads to the door, lighter by one coffee cart, and lets himself back out into the base proper, ambling for who knows where.