I can tell by the way you reach your conclusions: you're the director of a mental institution…

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier is in the front lobby of the Kashtta Tower, sitting and waiting for... several people, actually. Though he suspects the person he needs to be, some hypothetical figure of authority who could offer a proper procedure for any of this, for all of it, will not appear

Comments

[findaconstant]

It's not long between Dan's scribbled note and his appearance in the Kashtta's lobby. He looks a bit tousled and out of breath, but that's what happens when you run. One day, Dan will learn to keep his calm.

One day.

"Hi," he huffs, trying to catch some air. "Sorry. Are you - are - is Ruvin okay?"

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier rises to meet him, bowing shallowly. He's mostly stopped doing that when meeting new people, but he's been... rather stressed, recently. The old etiquettes are comforting.

"The Vesmier," he identifies. "Mr. Daniel Faraday?" The auto-append names feature of the journals is useful for arranged meetings, though it'd be even more so if it came with a picture of the person writing.

[findaconstant]

Dan's a little taken aback by the gesture, but only because of its archaic - to him, at least - nature. It's easy to ignore, though; he has bigger things to focus on right now, like Ruvin and what he's supposed to do here and, most importantly, how he can help her - if he can even help her at all.

"Yes." He takes a slow, calming breath. "Hi. Um... so, what happened?"

[the_vesmier]

Oh, where to begin

[superiorspectre]

Having read the Vesmier's post, and some of the replies, there is a very worried Suzie making a beeline for the lobby. She's seen what it does to him, to have to engage in any potenitally-harmful psychic manipulation. This... this can't be good.

"...Vesmier?"

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier notes someone coming. He's attentive enough to the background psychic noise to know it's not Gwen when he looks up, and on seeing Suzie, he stands up on reflex to give her a familiar nod. "Ms. Costello."

Ms. Costello, perfectly civil, perhaps with even a nod toward amiability, but he's running on etiquette right now, which is at least one social code he's not having a great deal of trouble with.

"Distracted" might be one word for what he is right now.

[superiorspectre]

Suzie can't help but notice that there's a hair more formality there than she's used to from him, the way he seems slightly distracted...

"I can leave, if you have other things to deal with, but... I was wondering if you might need someone to talk to."

The Doctor wasn't on the list of people he asked about resources, and the implications... They could make her angry, but right now she's far more concerned for him.

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier makes a moderating gesture. "I'm not entirely sure the infrastructure which would allow me to 'deal with things' exists in this universe," he admits. And... talking things out, when not in the context of arguing on the Senate floor, arguing with the Doctor, or the slow, methodical inquisition into things he occasionally practices, is something of a foreign concept to him, as well.

Really, catharthis in any form is something he's trained to avoid. It's too close to mental strain.

[theb5mantra]

The problem with a truncated broadcast of psychic distress is that it tends to bring other psychics around, wondering what, exactly, is going on.

Thus, there's a very worried Russian telepath bearing down on the Vesmier's current location, because something's wrong there, and Ivanova's never been one to leave these things alone.

"Vesmier." She nods, a mix of formality and concern. "You were broadcasting. What happened?" Straight to the point, as ever.

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier notes her approach and stands smoothly, hunting among the many formal, political answers he could give. Political formality is so often determining exactly what subset of the truth you want to present as an answer, and much as he finds it conceptually aggravating, it is occasionally helpful in protecting the interests of all parties.

"I was temporarily overwhelmed by someone else's stored psychic experience while attempting to render aid," he says - when one goes about shouting in a shared residence, one should be expected to provide a little explanation. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

Not that there's not a lot to ask about in that explanation, too.

[theb5mantra]

"...I see." Ivanova's had some training in politics and diplomacy, as much as she loathes both subjects... John insisted, much to her dismay. So while she'd have a lot more to ask, were this her station, and her people at risk, she bites back all the questions, save one.

"Is there anything I can do to help? You or them; it doesn't matter."

[the_vesmier]

He considers that.

So far as psychic ability goes, his is more than enough to handle the mechanical concerns of the situation. But that's... almost the problem.

"Your world had, I'm given to understand, a formalized code of law to deal with psychic infraction?" he asks. "I'm afraid I never took the time to study that particular subset of law in my own universe, beyond that which I was required to know."

[changingtheodds]

[[OOC: Dated to after this post.]]

Ruvin feels like there's someone attacking a butter churn in her stomach with entirely too much enthusiasm. She stops outside the Kashtta's doors, half-frozen the way she was when she went to see the Doctor.

Of course, when she went to see the Doctor, there was a ferret at the end of the walk, not an imposing, stony-faced man who may or may not have kept her from remembering burning people alive.

So. She'll just be... standing here. For a bit. Looking at the Kashtta's door... lever. Handle. Thing. What do you call those, anyway?

[the_vesmier]

Crash bars, apparently. Which the narration is sure is just what Torchwood wants on their building.

Said imposing, stony-faced man is not actually dealing with this entire situation all that much better than Ruvin is, stonyfacedness notwithstanfing. He's still worrying at everything, trying to hunt down an answer in a morass of abstracts and subjectives which aren't eager to give him anything.

He notices Ruvin at the door after a few moments and stands to open it for her - unorthodox, according to the laws of Gallifreyan social interaction, with her his junior (and it's only become more disconcerting recently that that can be said for most of the people here), but this entire situation has passed all bounds of orthodoxy. What's another concession?

He taps the handicapped button to open the door, folding his hands back into his sleeves. "Ruvin."

[changingtheodds]

The door moves when she's not expecting it. She jumps; he says her name and she hiccups in response and then covers her mouth with both hands, her face coloring.

"Sir," she mumbles, because she can't bring herself to call him Vesmier. He oozes sir-ness. He just does. She hiccups again.

[the_vesmier]

Well, Vesmier is an official title as well, if that... makes things better. But, you know, until then, they can just have their awkward, awkward formality. It seems to be what they're good at.

He motions her in, stepping out of her immediate path. "You would prefer somewhere somewhat more private?" It's half a query. Half a suggestion. Privacy is good for this sort of discussion, especially if he's not eager to have it mind-to-mind.