(Untitled)

[anystranger]

In a corner of the Kashtta Tower, a robot has pried open something on the wall and hooked itself up to the building's electricity. It's also prodding at its damaged arm with a few tools liberated from Toshiko's office, and there's a roll of duct tape at its feet

Comments

[cyfor]

Hi !7-Doctor! Have a Cy on the doorstep with an empty cookie tray balanced on her head. Well, it's empty of cookies at least. It's covered in magazine bits instead.

"Hi. I'm Cy."

She trots over to the TARDIS and thumps her head against it, making mental happy-faces at her.

[sevendoc]

!7 smiles, and the TARDIS perks up and sends a :: -prrt- :: and a psychic scritch Cy's way. "Hello," the Doctor says, wondering if he should steady that tray. "I'm the Doctor. Actually one of several, so it seems; I guess the 'the' is just one of those sorts of things best not to examine that closely." He motions at her trenchcoat. "Don't you get a bit cold in that?"

Not that he's dressed all that much more appropriately for the weather.

[cyfor]

She prrts back, humming and stroking the TARDIS. "You're too thick. Need more noodle-arms. I'm a cat. I'm never cold!"

Only she is. She holds the tray in place and thumps her head against the TARDIS again.

[alt_tardis]

The TARDIS considers that, then shifts smoothly into a tree more amenable to climbing all over. :: is.interface{physical}==better ?? ::

The Doctor watches with a fond smile, then tilts his head at Cy. "Cat, then? How's that work?" He's familiar with the concept of cats in different stages of evolution, but this is the first one he's run into nearly indistinguishable from a human.

[deliciouslies]

GLaDOS has mostly been ignoring the little squishy, though she is keeping a sensor or three aimed in his direction, in the unlikely event he does anything to inspect or disable her. She's humming to herself just below the range of human hearing, designing a new form of robot. Schematics occasionally flash briefly on her viewscreens, coupled with random images of zucchini, potholes, barbecue grills, lawnmowers, and so forth.

She has been attempting to design offensive weaponry into the new robot, but it seems as though her turret technology is not reproducible in this environment, and she lacks the data to produce a sufficient projectile equivalent. Just you wait until she discovers the modern internet.

In the meantime, this leaves large portions of her processing capacity with nothing to do. So she starts playing with the lights, slowly dimming them by degrees to see when the squishy will notice. That's something she hasn't experimented with yet.

[der_weevilkonig]

Owen does notice, once they start getting dim enough to interfere with his comfortable reading. He looks up at the lights, starting in with an "Christ, you can't just keep to the usual ways of catching my attention, can - ...that's not you, is it."

He prods at the Tower mentally, disloding a ghost from one of the flourescent lights which drifts down a metre of so and then vanishes. No. Doesn't feel like the Tower. That leaves one response.

He cranes his head over to look at GLaDOS. "Yes?"

[deliciouslies]

GLaDOS records the power output, as well as his reaction, and then the lights snap back to full brightness with a loud buzz within microseconds. She also records the unexpected energy fluctuation of the ghost, adding it to her datafile on odd phenomena that she's been noticing since arriving. Those make her more curious than anything.

Outwardly, of course, she sways back a little as if in surprise. "Who, mE?" And isn't it fascinating that the test subject reacted with such irritation almost immediately? The psychological section of his datafile is already beginning to be one of the most unique that she's recorded thus far. So... easily irritable. It makes her wonder what he might be pushed to do.

[der_weevilkonig]

"Yes, you," Owen says. He came down here so he wouldn't be bothered. He's almost considering moving down a level, except the Rift room is prone to random bouts of new Waderers and the building is even louder down there, in a way that makes the intrinsic creepiness of a talking bitchy building full of ghosts look perfectly banal. "Because it didn't feel like a power fluctuation, the Tower didn't do it, and I'm pretty sure Ianto doesn't have any more cyborg girlfriends to hide in various parts of our office."

Somewhere, somehow, Ianto was wondering how long it would take for this to be his fault.

[smithnjones]

Martha Jones tends to notice when someone stands in front her house, especially with a Christmas tree. She walks out to him, wrapping her almost over sized coat tightly around her tiny frame. It's like snuggling in a blanket.

"Hello," she says, with an almost unsure smile, because what else does one say to someone hanging around the front of their house?

[sevendoc]

!7 blinks a bit when she walks up to him, and then breaks out into the usual grin. Well, she came out of the house, so possibly he should offer something that resembles an explanation.

"Hello!" he says. Cheeriness is always the correct answer. "Sorry if we were bothering you; we were just admiring your neighbors'... original approach to lawn care."

Because that's definitely what it is. Not any kind of freak atmospheric anomaly. Lawn care. Yup.

The TARDIS perks up when Martha walks out, waggling a few branchs at her and setting a few fake icicles and simulated ornaments jangling. :: is.entity{'Martha Jones'} !! ♥ query:status(entity{'Martha'}) ?? ::

[smithnjones]

Martha smiles widely, with more confidence at his grin. There is nothing malicious or dark in this stranger's grin. Although she has come to realize that evil can be wrapped up in the friendliest of faces, there is something familiar and safe in his grin.

"Oh, no, you weren't bothering me. I just wondered if you needed any help, or what-" she stops speaking when the tree starts waggling its branches, distracted by the sound of the ornaments.

The wind is certainly not blowing. Then the tree speaks to her head in a very familiar way. Almost too familiar considering how much time she spent in there. It all makes sense now, even the why a Christmas tree part of it. Somehow. Or maybe she feels it doesn't have to make sense to her, because it's the TARDIS.

"Oh." Martha grins brightly and nearly considers hugging the !tree, but settles on sending positive feelings of love instead. "The TARDIS! Of course! Hello! It's good to see you, again. I'm doing very well! Thank you! And you

[sevendoc]

!7 blinks at the TARDIS, and then bounces a bit. "Ah! You know her? I'm a bit new to Chicago myself, just came in from London, haven't had a chance to check up on her new friends circle - sorry, there I go blathering on." He speaks quickly, with a rapid-fire delivery and slight British dialect which seems a bit at odds with his San Franciscan accent. Then he offers a hand. "The Doctor. ...a Doctor. Her Doctor! At least the one from her home reality; from what I hear, she's adopted a couple more."

The TARDIS shimmers for a moment and sends out a psychic :: entity{'TARDIS'} == HAPPYGOOD ^_^ :: and an answering psychic hug. :: instance{encounter.this}»AGREE!=={HAPPYGOOD} ::

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey walks in upon the robot with a frown at the sight of it standing there with its damaged arm. Everyone and everything seems to be getting in on some kind of action, except him. The only action that he's seen was the one brought upon by a uterus that insisted on being ready for pregnancy.

The thought nearly makes him shudder.

"...Would love to be able to say, 'Robot fixing himself, you don't see that everyday'... and mean it," he mutters, more to himself than anything.

He glances down at the floor at the robot's feet, distracted by the silver, shiny- "...duct tape?"

[anystranger]

The robot looks up at Casey approaches it, starting in on the all-too-familiar (to some) click routine... but this time, it's at the same time as it scans him/her, granting her/him a cursory {Object not recognized. No identifier exists. Identify: Friend or foe? This unit identifies as Chula Antipersonnel Armour completion ID D1747ч.}

After a moment, it stops clicking and adds {Temporospatial coordinates insufficient to acquire or manufacture casing alloy. Local adhesive will suffice.}

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey stares. He did not expect it to talk for some reason. Right. Because it would be able to fix its own arm, but not communicate. Really thought that one through.

"If you're living here, too, then I would assume we are friends, or at least, ally," he says, holding out his hand to be shaken automatically before deciding against it and letting his hand fall... awkwardly to his side. "I'm Casey."

His first name does not exist anymore.

"Duct tape," he repeats. If it works, it works. He'd heard that duct tape fixed everything, but this is a little beyond his scope of what everything is.

[anystranger]

{Identity logged: Casey. This unit will confirm with Torchwood Command}, the robot says.

Torchwood Command is probably getting tired of confirming all this robot's introductions.

{Material in question demonstrates acceptable fusibility and impermeability,} CNJ says after a moment. {Tensile strength and integrity low but possibly best match in materials available.}

[with_coffee]

Robin tries to not leave the hotel when he can, because he can never tell if there will be anyone drinking. He has less to distract himself with now so it's best to stay away from temptation he's learned.

Sometimes leaving the basement is unavoidable, however. Like when people drink the last of the milk and don't bother throwing the bloody carton away so he's got to go and buy more since the next hotel grocery run won't be until next week.

He happens to be passing the tree with a carton of milk in a grocery bag and a covered mug of his own coffee when he hears the singing. Robin jumps, looks around. No one there. Certainly no one singing. And trees do not sing.

There is a lot of crazy about Chicago, but trees most definitely do not and will not sing. Ever. Or he will throw himself off the next cliff he stumbles upon, because there is some strangeness that are just too weird to handle.

"What the... hell?"

[shadowseeks]

"Hell is not something I worry about much," says the tree. Or the tree root. Or... the shadow just under the tree root, but who's counting? "And there are ways to get you if the chief of the dark place comes knocking for you. They say if you ask the baobab three times she will teach you the secrets, but these thin cousins don't seem to have anything to do with anyone. Hello."

He extends a line of shadow out from the root in a kind of salutation, then pulls it back under. It's not too bright out today, but he's still more comfortable in the shade.

[with_coffee]

Robin has one eyebrow raised, one leg back behind him in a defensive stance, and his hand twisted around the plastic. He tries to figure out if he should run, if he's officially lost his mind, or if the world has truly gone past mad and into the ridiculous.

He takes a step back when the line of shadow comes out of the root. It only occurs to him thirty seconds in silence what had occurred.

"...did you talk to me about death and hell, and then just... say hello?"

[shadowseeks]

"I did. Hello."

Onye glances out, then makes a quick dash up the side of the trunk to cling to the underside of a branch. It puts him a bit higher than the man's head, but closer to eye-height, in any case.

"I'm Onyekachi. Don't worry. I'm only a shadow, not one of the Big Gods like the King of Hell. I go hiding when he comes, too."