Second Floor - Saturday Morning [Gathering Post, tag Sawyer]

[unluckydude]

Every morning, Hurley liked to grab his iPod and take a walk around the village. It was no big deal, just a way to clear his head before he maybe went to go grab some waffles or feed the ducks. Saturdays were no exception, though he did allow himself time to sleep in

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ota, gentle tag Walter Bishop

[190_iq]

Peter had, despite seeing several people trying the doors and elevators, also tried to get out. But he wasn't going to dwell on it for too long since he was hungry and, more importantly, he figured Walter would be. So he was making his rounds and finding anyone who had twinkles or wagon wheels. Maybe if he kept Walter fed enough, he'd think their way out of this mess.

[fringe_science]

Once Walter became aware of the situation, he took it in with a certain degree of...turbulence. As in, he'd locked himself in his bedroom. Things were tossed around, curse words in many different languages were uttered, but no drugs were taken. He was much too upset.

After that, he composed himself, dressed, and ventured to open the door to the hotel room he shared with his son. He peeked outside, graying head swiveling in search of...

"Peter!" he hissed, beckoning the man back to their room with a pawing of his hand. He didn't dare, at the moment, step into the hallway.

[190_iq]

"What?" His father looked a little crazier than normal, if that were actually possible, and it made Peter follow after having spoken to a half-naked girl. "Everything okay?" His hands slipped into his pockets once he was inside their room and he looked over his father once again.

[fringe_science]

Walter rubbed his fingers against his thumb in a nervous gesture, as if clearing them off from an invisible layer of dust.

"We're out of lime flavored Jell-O," he said, gravely, brandishing a box of watermelon Jell-O which he appeared to be completely distraught over.

[190_iq]

He had a feeling this wasn't really the reason for his father's distress. Peter kept his face casual though as he looked at Walter. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest. "I'm sure someone else has lime Jell-O if you really need it."

He paused, then started to search his pockets. "In the mean time.." He frowned a little, where was it?

[fringe_science]

"I don't know how I'm supposed to make a red and green parfait with only red colored Jell-O. It's the contrast in colors which provides the most pleasurable aesthetic!" Oh, yes. He was fairly upset. "There is also scientific evidence that the EKG patterns produced by lime Jell-O match most closely to the brainwaves emitted by the healthy human male aged 17-20, the peak of sexual prowess."

There was a point to this, naturally. However, Walter tended to halt before explaining what his point usually was.

"Blue pen, upper front shirt pocket. Your last piece of gum, left pants pocket. Unless you're seeking out something entirely different. Then I'm not sure where it is."

[190_iq]

"Okay, first of all?" Peter kept looking as he looked over to his father with a sort of bemused look. "There is absolutely no reason for you to have Jell-O that mimics EKG patterns of a young man. Second, I'm sure you can find some lemon Jell-O or something and mix it with blue food colouring to make green for your parfait." Though why a parfait was important, he didn't know, but he learned to stop questioning Walter's food habits a while ago.

"And third," He stopped when he found what he was looking for, but took a moment to point a finger at him, "It is way too creepy you know what's in my pockets." And yet, again, it somehow seemed appropriate.

He pulled out the object. It was a tastykake, pancake flavoured. It was a little squished since Peter had been run into in the hall. He held it up. "I managed to find you this." Not waffles, but you know. He handed it over.

[fringe_science]

Walter was still staring at the box of watermelon Jell-O as if expecting it to spontaneously combust in his hands. Though flaring up in smoke was the least of a Jell-O box's worries when it's about to be experimented on by Walter Bishop. "No chance of a close encounter with a species of the jiggly kind, I suppose?"

Yes, he was pouting.

And yes, he roundly ignored the observation about Peter's pockets, though it was terribly simple to figure out their contents after watching his son actually fill them.

"Tasty--kake?" He really couldn't believe these fortuitous circumstances, and that pout went away. The Jell-O box was tossed to the side, and he held out wriggling fingers, cooing over the little plastic-wrapped treat like a toddler yearning over a favorite toy. "Peter," Walter said gravely. "However did you stumble upon this, and what did you have to give up in exchange?"

He'd been thinking of sexual favors for food, but nothing to desperate as yet.

[190_iq]

The way his father was coveting the little package was a little endearing, though mostly it was disconcerting. Walter and his love of fun was an enigma. He sent his father a weird look, eyebrows up and a little furrowed at the same time. "Actually I just asked if anyone had anything like them and someone down the hall had one left. Though I guess I'll owe them a Tastykake now once we get out of this mess." He paused for only a half second, "Which, by the way, would be great if you had any ideas on how to do that." Peter wasn't going to admit it, but the idea of being separated from Olivia where he couldn't go help if something went wrong, made him a little antsy. Her disappearance was still in the corners of his mind, even if he knew she escape.

[fringe_science]

"A Tastykake for a Tastykake is a fair trade," he agreed, fingertips gripping at the cellophane wrapper surrounding the little snack. He tore the wrapper with near-exhausting precision, the whole affair worthy of the great lengths a lab worker goes through to keep all equipment sterile.

"A Twinkie would be much improved upon the Tastykake, I think. It would convey the great amount of...of satisfaction at receiving the Tastykake under such dire circumstances." Banana bread flavored twinkies he'd imagine were ideal.

Munching happily on the snack cake, with cackles of glee which no man should be caught doing after the age of...twelve or so, he snapped his fingers and pointed directly at Peter.

"It's basic thermodynamics, Peter. Energy into work, exerting a force which is somehow keeping the entirety of the hotel floors locked. How much work, well..." He gave the Tastykake another bite, talking around that mouthful of processed, sugary goodness. "I nearly through the calculations

[190_iq]

Peter made a mental note about Twinkies being greater than Tastykakes, but didn't make any outward acknowledgment as he listened to his father explain his theory. When Walter finished, he nodded. Not at the lime Jell-O comment, but at the science. "So basically you're implying we're going to need some sort of explosion or immense pressure to reverse the effect on the hotel right now." His face was a little skeptical. "I think you might find some people opposed to this train of thought, Walter."

[fringe_science]

"An explosion within the range of nine to eleven kilotons." He didn't exactly care that some might be opposed to exploding the hotel in order to save the people trapped within it, as the value of life far outweighed the value of a thing of metal and concrete, in Walter's point of view.

"Sad to say, there is no type of incendiary device I can design which is able to concoct the amount of force necessary within the confines of this village. So, in the end, this is merely a thought experiment. An entertainingly stimulating one, to be sure, but still for amusement." And he popped the last of the snack cake into his mouth.

"Judging from past experiences in the village, I believe that simply waiting out the event will be enough to see things return to normal." And he held up the box of gelatin again. "Jell-O?" he offered, shaking the box like enticing a dog with a favorite ball.

[190_iq]

Peter had opened his mouth, about to point out that it was also people would die from an explosion, what with the confined space, but his years with his father made him hold his tongue and listen. Actually, it was a good theory and would probably work. Of course, there was still the whole 'explosion' and 'death' thing. Sometimes the means don't justify the ends. This was maybe the lessen Walter was in the village to learn.

"I think you're right. Waiting sounds like a good idea." Assuming, of course, Walter could do it. He'd been pent up in that hospital for a long time.

Peter blinked and then, in spite of himself he smiled and nodded. "Sure, why not. I don't remember the last time you made Jell-O. Or.. well anything that wasn't potentially harmful to humans or environment." Peter strolled over, then paused, giving Walter a look. "We are just going to make normal Jell-O, right?" These things needed to be straightened out sometimes.

[fringe_science]

Of course he hadn't thought of the casualties his little experiment would inflict on the village population. His main concern at the moment was creating enough force to overcome the physical stresses placed upon the hotel exits. Perhaps he really required a bit of restraint instead.

It wasn't patience which allowed him to survive all those years in St. Clares. It was a sense of inevitability, of lost hope, of understanding that today would be the same as yesterday and tomorrow would be the same. Complacency.

"Mixed in with vodka, yes," he said matter-of-factly, unaware that he'd completely glossed over the fact that he wished to make Jell-O shots...in the hours before lunch. "There is a delightful cocktail recipe I've stumbled upon which combines the wholesomeness of fruit-flavored gelatin with the effects of fine distilled alcohol. I find the juxtaposition between childhood and adulthood compelling..."

[190_iq]

"I think you find the concept of inebriation in lieu of confinement more compelling." He was still following his father though. "Walter, how about we make just some good old fashion Jell-O? That way you we can share some with the kids on this floor and you can stay sober to try and fix the problem." And keep his pants on.

[fringe_science]

Social agreement notwithstanding, Walter always did find the requirement for clothing when in the presence of others unequivocally restrictive. Fascinating, but restrictive. More fascinating, however, was the reactions to when the norm is not followed. But then, it was getting colder as the seasons began to shift, so barring a reintroduction of fur to human biology, clothing would have to do.

"I think we've some...cookie cutter shapes I can utilize to create visually stimulating pieces of gelatin!" Stars and moons and the like, nothing more stimulating than that. "Excellent suggestion, Peter!" He approached his son, patted him fondly on the shoulders and then aimed to duck back into their hotel room. "But for later!" he started, calling over his shoulder. "Let's see if we can locate some good quality vodka!"

And he started to hum the opening strains of Mozart's Idomeneo as he shuffled about the kitchen.