Arthur Ramsey, Threshold

[linguisticgod]

((He is from the TV series, not the book of similar name!))

He wanders in, a little bleery and hung over. He might only stand four and a half feet tall, but you'd never know it by the way he moves -- doesn't matter if he's baffled by the sights or out of his element, he owns the room when he walks in.

He settles into his jacket by tugging on the

Comments

[themickoftime]

Somehow, Callahan managed to arrive in the sorting room carrying a vodka tonic without having actually heard the order for one. "I like a man who appreciates booze," he said, handing over the drink. "And... this will probably help."

[linguisticgod]

... so this place wasn't so bad. "I like a man who brings me booze. What's your name?"

[themickoftime]

"Mike Callahan." He offered his hand. "I'm in Ravenclaw, which is known for being the first house at Hogwarts with a well-stocked bar. It's also the sort of place that attracts brilliant-minded people."

[linguisticgod]

"Scotch and vodka each attract their own corner of brilliance, that's true." He toasted him. "Ramsey. You know how to mix a drink."

[ian_ma1co1m]

I'll take the look at your mathematics paper, thanks. Ian Malcolm, good to meet you.

Why's the money all in ones?

[linguisticgod]

"It's high-end applied cryptography protocols. Can you keep up?" It's a fair question -- not everyone keeps a list of favored algorithms in their head.

He smirked at Ian's question. "Because of where I'm going with it."

[ian_ma1co1m]

Humble chaos theoretician here, I'll do my little best. *nods*

*raises an eyebrow* A national tour of laundromats? Vending machine dealer's convention? ...Vegas?

[linguisticgod]

... reeeeally? "Publish much?"

He smirked. "Strip clubs."

[dinosaurman]

Well, with a bribe like that, who could say no?

"I'd like the pen, please," Grant said.

[linguisticgod]

... really? He handed over the pen -- standard-issue click in black. "Never leave home without it."

[dinosaurman]

"Thank you." Grant tucked it away into a shirt pocket. "Trust me, you get sick of quills pretty quickly. The nearest town doesn't exactly keep them stocked, either."

[linguisticgod]

"Quills?" What kind of colonial nightmare had he stepped into? "It's a good thing I didn't offer my mechanical pencils, I guess."

[chaotic_miles]

Miles, who was not much taller than Arthur, came striding into the sorting room. He read over the application, then grinned. "These combat and espionage situations... Care to share with the class how they came about?"

[linguisticgod]

He smirked back. "It's classified. I'd tell you, but Cavanaugh would kill me."

[chaotic_miles]

Miles nodded, smile not faltering. "Of course," he said. "And who is Cavanaugh? Your employer?" He was picturing a humorless, bland sort, much like Simon Ilyan.

[linguisticgod]

"He'd like to think so. He's the military end of the organization."

[hedwigrobinson]

Hedwig wandered in from her own Sorting, which had leveled off into something of a pleasant lull.

"Tell me about these inappropriate skills of yours," she said, one thinner-than-thin brow arching suggestively.

[linguisticgod]

"Never had a night when I wanted company that I spent it alone." He smirked and crossed his arms. "Never had company go home early, either."

[hedwigrobinson]

"I'm still not seeing the 'inappropriate' here," said Hedwig, hopping up onto a table and crossing her legs.

[linguisticgod]

"I'd be willing to give you a private audience, but hey, you never know when there are kids around." Not that he cares about kids, not all that much. He'd just prefer to keep from getting arrested or beaten about the head and neck by a pack of angry mothers.