5 [ location: angela's apartment / accidental visual ]

[bonescientist]

Brennan sits cross-legged on the living room floor in Angela's apartment, sandwiched between the couch and the coffee table. Her laptop, a half-empty bottle of beer and an opened carton of Chinese food with a pair of chopsticks sticking out of it are perched on the table in front of her. Yellow Post-It notes litter most of the free surface left on

Comments

audio;

[bonescientist]

Why uh oh?

audio;

[bonescientist]

If I could produce even one paragraph that wasn't completely lackluster and banal, then perhaps, but as it is progressing now - or as it isn't - there is no need to interrupt your evening, Ange.

[visual]

[selfmadman]

"Not quite," Don says, wry but not unsympathetic (he hasn't written a thing since arriving in Taxon; then again, he hasn't had reason to). He's on the tram, one arm stretched along the back of a bench, cigarette between his fingers. Every so often the image sways as the car makes a turn. "Wait till you're out of beer."

[visual]

[bonescientist]

Brennan startles just slightly at the unfamiliar male voice, but recovers quickly. She's come to expect the tablets to turn themselves on at random, but hasn't yet learned to keep hers in another room or something to prevent accidental recordings despite being a bona fide genius.

"I take it you speak from experience," she says in lieu of greeting, matching Don's wryness. "You're a writer yourself, then?"

Nodding at the cigarette between his fingers, Brennan can't resist adding helpfully (in her guileless opinion); "Those are incredibly unhealthy, by the way."

[visual]

[selfmadman]

He tilts his head to the side, relaxing into something of a slouch as he does so. "You weren't expecting that, were you?" He seems, if anything, more taken aback by the intrusion than she does.

As for the cigarette, he brings it to his lips and takes a drag. "I've heard the claims. All of them," he says, evincing as much interest in her well-intentioned alarmism as he does in the smoke he expels over his shoulder.

"What are you working on?"

[visual]

[bonescientist]

"If by that you mean did I intent to broadcast this to the whole of Taxon, then no, I did not," Brennan replies candidly, straight-faced as always. "But it happens, so there's no use bemoaning the fact."

She makes no further comment about the smoking, simply shrugs her shoulders slightly - if he's determined to ruin his lungs, then that's his business.

"Oh, it's a continuation to the novel series I've been writing back home," she admits reluctantly, glancing briefly at the laptop before her. "Though it would seem the timing is not ideal insofar as my current creativity is concerned. I seem to have none and I suspect more beer is not the solution for that."

[ visual ]

[timedaughter]

"What are you trying to write?"

Because Jenny is bored and nosy.

[ visual ]

[bonescientist]

Now aware that this has been broadcast to the whole city, Brennan is no longer startled to hear yet another unfamiliar voice chime in.

"It's a new novel. I've been writing these books back home and I thought I'd attempt to write another one while stuck here," Brennan responds, pausing before adding ruefully, "But it's not coming along very well right now."

[ visual ]

[timedaughter]

"Well, how's the plot go so far? Maybe I can help." Jenny does have a rather lovely imagination, if she does say so herself.

[ visual ]

[bonescientist]

"Well, the rough draft begins with the murder of a figure skater drowned into her own bath tub, the body nearly liquefied by common household chemicals. Political connotations become evident as the figure skater's identity is discovered, and there is also a subplot that advances the personal relationship of the main protagonists," Brennan rattles off, sighing slightly. "It's not so much the plot or the details I'm concerned with, it's more to do with the fact that my writing just seems... flat, here."

[Voice]

[aklingonside]

Writer's block? What were you trying to write?

[Voice]

[bonescientist]

A crime novel. Specifically, a sequel to my previous book.

[Voice]

[aklingonside]

I can't say I'm disappointed that you're struggling to find inspiration into Taxon.

[Voice]

[bonescientist]

Oh? Why is that?

[visual]

[lionofolympus]

Hercules peers into his tablet with a cheeky grin.

"Perhaps your muse needs recharging!"

[visual]

[bonescientist]

Brennan blinks a few times. She should be used to the fact by now that Taxon is inhabited by all sorts of people, but Hercules admittedly takes her aback slightly.

"Uh, perhaps," she finally says slowly. "Are you on your way to a costume party?"

[visual]

[lionofolympus]

Herc pauses for a moment, then asks "Is there a party I should be going to?"

He'd hate to be missing a party.

[visual]

[bonescientist]

Brennan frowns, thrown off by the question. "I don't know. I was asking you."

This conversation is shaping up to be more complicated than it should be.