ARRIVAL LOG 22

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: May 7 - 11
WHAT: The twenty-second arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, references to rebellion and world upheaval. Further notes at the end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #022

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see two people in front of you: one dressed in a thick set of armor, while the other wears medical garb. Out the windshield in front, there are many tall buildings—all reaching up beyond a normal city skyline, all entirely too close to the vehicle itself. But more than that, many of those buildings are covered in green.

You realize there are others next to you: all dressed the same way as you, you'll come to realize: in overalls of varying colors, all with heavy-duty gloves on. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips.

The vehicle eventually lowers to the ground and turns off with a low whirr. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, and the air outside feels full of moisture. Soon enough, you realize it's lightly raining. The guard says nothing, head bowed as he lines you up with the rest. The nurse helps the others out, checking over each passenger one by one.

The main guard turns to address your entire group, and something about her bearing makes it clear she's done this before. "I'll be quick. Listen up." Your body will come to attention, immediately homing in on the words that follow, as if compelled to hang on every word. "You see those tents set up over there? You're going to head over there and help out with the work they're doing. Don't hurt anyone, don't look for any assistance from any police officers, and don't run off. Wait until people come and find you, and when they do, ask them to show you the glow."

The guard will hop back into the van, which will rise off of the ground and head back the way it came, turning the corner of a building that you now realize is covered in winding plants and vines. Once it's gone, you'll find your legs moving almost without your permission, guiding you to follow the steps the guard laid out.

Once you get to the tents, you'll see that there is a congregation of people, all dressed in clothes that they're ready to work in. Many of them are covered in grass stains, their faces bearing that sheen that comes with manual labor. The ones that are under the shade of the tents seem to be taking a break, but many others are in the area, hard to work. They assume that you're here to help pitch in with cutting back the sheer number of plants that have overgrown and consumed the city, and they hand you a pair of shears and a bucket so that you can get to work. Time to get pruning!

◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request – and that includes the message passed on from the mysterious patron.

> HEDGE-CLIPPING

The message from El comes the same as usual: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it.

Here we go again. We've got another batch of newbies, who've been dropped off at one of the landscaping work stations for getting all these plants under control. Follow the coordinates and you should find them in that general area. They're wearing overalls, if that narrows it down. I don't think many people wear overalls in 2512.

The coordinates will lead the current Displaced to the heart of New Amsterdam, near to one of the many green spaces in the city. Unsurprisingly, this is an area where the overabundance of plants growing at a massive rate has caused the most issue. Businesses, especially smaller ones like restaurants and boutiques, have been impacted by the plants. It's not just the outsides of buildings that are overgrown, either; inside, plumbing is completely clogged up as the foliage spills out of sinks, toilets, and anywhere else it can find a way in.

Green Thumbs, which is a local landscaping company that's seen an influx of business in the last six months thanks to the strange overgrowth of plant life in the city, has stepped up to help with this problem and has recruited the newly arrived Displaced to their cause, if unwittingly. Anyone who comes by one of their stations (including the veteran Displaced coming to collect the newbies) is likely to get roped into helping, as this is quite the undertaking and they need all the hands they can get. Don't worry—as long as you have a registered ID, you can get paid today.

The work itself isn't too complicated. Cut away plants, yank them out of drains, and put all everything that's harvested into buckets to return to the tents to drop off for later use in composting. While most of what's growing are flowers and weeds, there are areas where vegetables have sprouted too. Those will obviously want to be saved, and there will be crates set out to collect all of it. At the tents they'll also be offering some snacks and plenty of water to keep people energized and hydrated during the work. Everything from parks to bakeries to gift shops are going to need help here, and while the amount of work feels like it's neverending, it is important. Life can't return to normal until this is done.

While there will be time for both new arrivals and the rest of the Displaced to pitch in, eventually the newcomers will be escorted back to the safehouse for processing.

> AROUND THE CITY

MEDIA COVERAGE AND ONLINE CHATTER
New Amsterdam has come to life again following Judas' simulation, but the energy of the city has changed. After so many tragedies and disasters, it’s as though everyone is half-expecting the next one to strike while still reeling from the last. Some are dealing with this by throwing themselves into charity work or laying low, but others have been radicalized into thoughts of taking down the United Nations altogether. Morningstar is garnering more and more support, and though it’s technically illegal, their symbol is being grafitti’d and pasted all over town. The overworked police can’t manage to keep up, so some of them stay, a clear sign of the shifting opinions of the people.

The focus of every nearly source of news, from serious mainstream media to pop culture commentary, is still the simulation that recently overtook New Amsterdam. New characters won’t be able to access this information until their IDs are set up, but once they can, it’s a deluge of news reports, opinion pieces, and conspiracy theory websites.

There are solemn specials memorializing those who died in the simulation, or pieces discussing the long term effects on survivors and the city as a whole, focusing on New Amsterdam’s charity efforts. Talking heads, from pundits to scientists to various authority figures, are brought on panels to discuss and sometimes heatedly debate what happened and why it all seemed to go so wrong. Of particular focus and concern is New Amsterdam Governor Lydia Gill-Jade's choice to step down, electoral candidate Jovavich’s death, and the upcoming emergency election. Now that so many UNA soldiers have been decommissioned and weapons contracts dropped, economic concerns are rearing their head, too.

It might be a breath of fresh air for some citizens when they realize that this time, the mainstream media’s reaction to the United Nations' involvement is decidedly negative. There isn’t so much undue praise, and both interviewers and interviewees are starting to ask hard questions about how, exactly, the United Nations screwed this up so badly. More than a few are blaming the current situation on the United Nations completely.

And, of course, the AI Judas is still missing. The fear over this is palpable, and no news channel or website is going to let anyone forget it, or go long without mentioning it. It’s clear the United Nations is in the middle of a damage control campaign, sending their most media-ready members to explain why they didn’t do more and why their hands were tied. It’s all very polished and precise.

On social media, the shift towards criticizing the United Nations is much more open and less measured. It isn’t hard to find discussions tearing apart the UN’s excuses and even mocking them. With UNA soldiers returning home, there are more than a few stories of friends or family members noticing a huge shift in the former soldiers’ personalities, and their clear struggle to reintegrate into a civilian lifestyle. People are getting angry, and admitting you still support the United Nations is a great way to start a very long argument.

As for Morningstar, now that they’re in the odd position of being considered by most to be a political party opposing the UNA, they’re getting more media attention than ever before. The shift is clear—Morningstar’s opinions and ideas have value now, and they aren’t shy about challenging the United Nations' official position on what happened in New Amsterdam.

Another source of constant gossip is the Displaced. Now that they’ve been partially outed, everyone is trying to figure out just what their deal is. Some people clearly view them as heroes, while others aren’t so sure. Are they rogue UNA experiments? Dimension hoppers? Superheroes? Aliens? No one knows the truth, and so theories abound, some of them utterly ridiculous. There are more measured articles and reports too, but the tabloids are the ones running the scoops that are more out there (and, honestly, more fun).

MEDIA COMMUNITY RESPONSE
While talk is all well and good following such a widespread event as the simulation, taking action is far more important. While efforts to handle the overgrowth of plant life continues, there are other needs that need to be met too. Everyone came out of the simulation feeling malnourished, so all throughout the city food drives are being set up to make sure that the less fortunate and destitute get the sustenance they need to get back on their feet.

On top of that, there will also be an emphasis on redistributing all of the food which grew in excess while everyone was in the sim, to make sure that it's spread around to everyone who needs it.

Displaced will be encouraged to participate and help out with this (whether it's through cooking, plating/serving food, etc.) by the people they know through their community -- whether it's coworkers, members of Morningstar (including Gaby), or any other non-Displaced acquaintances that they have.

As public opinion toward the UNA is souring, there is a belief that people need to learn how to be self-sufficient, which is something that Morningstar in particular decides to capitalize on. If they can't rely on the UNA or on the corporations which are known to be corrupt and incetuous, and if the upcoming emergency election is likely to just give everyone more of the same, then they'll just have to figure things out on their own.

Therefore, Morningstar heads up a number of community events, classes, and drives to move toward this goal. This is a less direct form of rebellion than targeting the UNA or any of the big corporations directly, and while Morningstar has plans for that in the works too, they have always been a group that knows how to engage with the common people and make them feel seen and heard. Want to know how to grow and cook your own food? Have you heard what composting is, but don't really know what it's about? There's classes for all that, and more, including how to give haircuts and mend your own clothing. Those who are practiced in these things will also be offering these services to anyone who needs them.

Whether the Displaced are curious to learn, want to offer a class of their own (or at least help teach one), or want to take advantage of any of the services being offered, they'll be welcome. Morningstar agents will find them at the safehouse or Red Wings and encourage them to participate.

> SAFEHOUSE

Located under an abandoned hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. Gaby will be around, ready to greet as many of the new arrivals as she can and get them settled in. Brusque and no-nonsense, she'll be open to questions, but will advise the newcomers to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. Newbies can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large number of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. For anyone in need of them, Gaby will offer up partitions that will come out of storage. Tucked away in a corner is a VR system, though newcomers won't be able to access this until their ID has been set up. Even with the newly erected partitions in the sleeping areas, privacy is at a minimum.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, but it's well-stocked.

◉ While the kitchen has basic foods and necessities, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be almost nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. Either she or El will explain that they've been given a modest stipend of credits to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet.

◉ New characters do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until MAY 11 (JUNE 21). These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until MAY 11 (JUNE 21). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below.

Please check out our June calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

AC remains halved this month due to the state of the world right now. New players will only need to provide at least five comments across two-four (2-4) threads, while older players will only need to provide ten comments across two-four (2-4) threads. Please let us know if you have any questions about this!

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[slavophile]

( Willioliver just lays there, on his back, looking up at Ian. )

Did it? Did it look like I fell down? Do you want me to stay down, or can you offer a hand? Offense offered or not. I'll take the offense if it comes with a hand back up.

( He even lifts his arm, and if helped or not, once he's up, he speaks again. )

So, I have all the attributes of who I want to, visually - sense-wise. But, not. Physically.

[wittingly]

[ Sorry man, you're gonna have to forgive him, he can't keep a wide grin off of his face. All the same, yeah, he heads on over to offer out a calloused hand and then kindly haul William up to his feet. He's good like that.

Ian's surprisingly tall and surprisingly well-built, all things considered. It tends to surprise people, or at least it surprised Kyna when she met him for the first time. People brace for a pretty unremarkable nerd, but Ian's a little over six feet and he's got broad shoulders, broad chest, broad biceps from all the manual labor that comes with mechanical engineering.

(And woodworking, metal working, replacing floors, constantly doing home improvement to keep himself busy...)

He'll gently clap William on the shoulder once or twice when he makes it upright. ]

Seems like it.

[ He agrees pleasantly, a friendly drawl. ]

For what it's worth, that's still about ten times cooler than what mine is.

[slavophile]

( He is hauled, gratefully.

Staying close, he looks back, a smile evident. Oliver is taller than William and infinitely better built from years of discipline and training.

William will be back to his regularly scheduled program, shortly. The close proximity is something, Ian's well-built, and he's right, not what William expected in asking a stranger. It's strange to be his father and have this kind of a moment to himself so he steps away, facing him again, leaning against the table. )

It doesn't wear off for... another five more minutes. You could show me yours while we wait.

[wittingly]

[ Ian rounds the other side of the table, then pauses for a second to look around for something. Holds up a one second finger, and then slips off to the kitchen proper to grab some things.

Plops a few options down on the table; a spoon, a glass, a screwdriver, a kazoo. ]

Prepare to have your mind blown.

[ But it's a little deadpan, self-deprecating.

(Jyn made a fucking water shield in that bunker, did a whole neat frozen water droplets in the air thing. Damn it.)

He slides the spoon over first. Claps his hands together, does a dramatic rub. Rolls his shoulders out like he's loosening up. It's a whole dramatic affair, complete with a long pause for effect when he reaches his hand out to hover it over the spoon's handle.

Touches it.

It turns into a fork. ]

Ta-daaaaaa. Eh?

[ Gesture. Look at that. Never gonna have that 'no clean spoons for soup' problem. Not in his city. ]

[slavophile]

( Moving so that Ian can take his place at the table, Willioliver instead takes a seat, patient, trying not to look eager.

He eyes the different tools. A spoon. A glass. The kazoo...

He's eyeing the kazoo intently enough he almost misses the spoon to fork -- but, he still catches it. Huh. )

Not eh. That could come in handy. Could you turn it into a key? Into a wrench you might need? Can you make one tool another? And a kazoo...

( What? A recorder?

He sits forward holding out a hand. )

Can I see that?

( The fork he means, but maybe he also meant the kazoo. ) Does it stay a fork indefinitely?

( Licking his lips, he sits back again. )

Are there a lot of kazoos here in the future? Someone else I was talking to mentioned it the one time. The -- greatness of the kazoo, but that's not the way he described it.

[wittingly]

[ That's right, William. That's the very same kazoo. Got it in a pawn shop and he's never letting it go. It's one of like four earthly possessions he has to his name so far, and it's all thanks to the lovely pawn shop worker who had a two hour conversation with him about her daughter and ice skating.

Coincidentally, he has actually turned the kazoo into a recorder.

He's midway through passing the fork over when that last part comes out, and he perks up a little. Looks some mix between curious and excited, completely forgets to answer any and all fork related questions. ]

Unless some other guy's treading on my turf, I'm pretty sure I'm your great kazoo player.

[ And you're gonna have to forgive him for not immediately launching into guesses, because he had a lot of conversations that day with a lot of people and at least two of them involved a kazoo. Hard to keep straight who he did and didn't tell about it. ]

[slavophile]

( With the fork in his hand, he too stops paying attention to what used to be a spoon. This guy's curiosity and his amusement is catching and William's drawn in as he sets the fork back down again. )

That would depend on what your turf entails. If you happened to... singlehandedly save all of us from the simulation. Or, spent 18? Months with Ron and his cow. Or, some of those 18 months... ( He reads his face, looking for any sign of recognition. This is a strange way of first meeting him in person if this is ... Ian. ) Why am I suddenly regretting choosing my dad to become.

[wittingly]

[ Pretty quickly and with not even an iota of censoring himself, amusement turns into a wide smile. Not for the first time in ten minutes, he reaches out to clap a firm hand on not-will's shoulder. ]

Hey, man!

[ Would you look at that? They had a standing date, maybe he should've been a little more on the look out over the last day or two. It's taken some time to recover, in his defense. ]

Nice to meet you and your dad at the same time. Usually takes me way longer to meet the parents.

[ He actually never meets the parents because he panics and leaves relationships before the fourth date usually, but. You know. For the sake of the joke. ]

[slavophile]

( He just lets out a dry, this is how things go for him, laugh. He looks down at Ian's hand, follows that arm and finds his eyes again. He'd grin, but, he feels - caught off guard. And it's never a feeling he likes.

That aside, he keeps talking. )

You're like, hot. Which is - weird coming out of my dad's -- ( He clears his throat. ) mouth. This should only last one or two more minutes. Ian. Fowler.

[wittingly]

[ If Will's trying to do any dampening of Ian's exuberance, he's not accomplishing it with you're like, hot. It only broadens his smile out a little more, wide enough that dimples show even through the beard. ]

I'm gonna choose the smart path here, I think, and not say a single thing one way or the other about your dad.

[ But your dad's hot, man. It runs in the family, he'd say, but that's probably not the best way to hit on someone. All guesswork, what with never having had a father himself. ]

Would it make you feel better if I closed my eyes for a couple minutes? Do a little brain bleach, forget what I'm looking at?

[slavophile]

Appreciate that.

( What you're not saying he feels like he can hear but that's not his power. So, he pushes that thought aside. )

No. I - I can take it. You saw me before, anyway. You didn't - know it was me. I'm secure in my looks and personality, thanks.

( His annoyance is giving way to his own amusement. It's not to the level of gleeful Ian's reaching, but he's not mortified completely. Especially as the power dissipates, leaving William sitting there, big eyes looking up at Ian. William's 31, but looks to be in his mid twenties. He's built enough from using the gym to keep in shape but not overly built. He's long limbs and dark hair. The best of his mother Samantha and his father. )

[wittingly]

[ Yep, perfect timing, the glamour fades out so that Ian can get a proper look at him this time. A real once-over that turns into a twice-over, and has him propping his chin up on his hand.

He was right. Runs in the family. Nice to see him again with the added context, to be able to be actively studious about Will's features, put a face to the name. ]

Look at that. Welcome back.

[ An acknowledgement, an ever-present inside-joke sounding tone to his slow, calm drawl. ]

I'm pretty sure I'm owed a drink and overwhelming gratitude for that whole, you know, single-handed simulation saving.

[slavophile]

Really?

( He squints, widens his eyes and then his smile. Because that's his voice.

His lips part, about to say something else. He hasn't done this in months. Flirted with someone else. In person or in text. And while this is a bit of a flop of a start, Ian's loving it. And that at least encourages him. )

You're not pretty sure. You're sure. And, a promise is a promise. But, the bar here, I hear it's all swill. So, if you don't... mind whatever they have here. I could be your inexperienced bartender. Work up to the overwhelming gratitude?

[wittingly]

[ Ian's got this easy-going way of luring people into feeling comfortable. Whether that takes the form of flirting or sharing or just having a good time, surface-level bonding is practically what he minored in beneath engineering.

It's the deeper level he can't do. It's like he used all his skill points maxing out the first one and the second's a flat 0.

He seems pleased at the answer, does a little if you say so gesture with the hand he peels away from his chin for a second. A promise is a promise, then. ]

I guarantee you my experience-standards are lower than you can even dream. The apocalypse has a way of lowering your expectations.

[ Some of the awful, awful stuff they got by on can't really be topped. Nobody ever chose not to drink it, though, because... end of days. You gotta do something to keep from losing your mind at night. That something, for Ian, usually involved ill-advised hookups after too much to drink and too much to smoke. Just uninhibited enough to want to make up for his complete lack of human connection and forget how much he regrets it the next awkward morning. ]

[slavophile]

Right. The alien apocalypse. Well. I think there's nowhere to go but up then.

( Sliding out of his chair, William grins as he leaves Ian there to visit the small bar that's somehow always stocked. )

Tequila, right?

( He doesn't wait for the answer, knowing he'd read and retained. Knowing that he'd looked forward to this meeting, without ever admitted to himself he did.

When it comes to being emotionally stunted, he has his own parts to claim. His trust issues were numerous and lately he'd focused on the greater good, on being a vigilante and the son of a vigilante. But, he's still the kid that was left behind. That somehow never fit in and always found his place.

He pours neat, no rocks, before taking two glasses back over, handed one over and setting it down onto the table. )

It's been a long time since I've done this, so, I may have to shake off some rust. Bear with me?

[wittingly]

[ Although he gets the sense that it's not an earnest question, he still offers up a helpful confirmation, a soft yup. He settles his elbow onto the tabletop, angling his body over so he can turn and curiously watch. You can learn a lot about a person in their body language, how they carry themselves, their strategy and approach to the world. Ian's nothing if not an avid learner, and studying people is one of his constant pastimes.

It's interesting, the way Will moves.

Long fingers curl around the glass before him, but it's mostly to play with it at first. To gently spin it on the table before the random objects Ian's placed on it. ]

When you say this, are we talking about the drinking again, the socializing, or the overwhelming someone with gratitude?

[slavophile]

Gratitude.

( William moves with purpose, always has. He's never been one to wander, or mill. He may fiddle, but it's always in an effort to get to the bottom of something. Tinkering and fixing. He doesn't look into his glass or away. He keeps eye contact. He confronts. He's had to push the effort, to make his way through the world.

He'd recently learned that seed money wasn't exactly a random angel investor but that doesn't change what he's done for himself. )

The last guy I bestowed any gratitude on thought I didn't trust him. Or, make time for him. ( is this the now time to be doing this? No. ) But, we're not talking about another lifetime literally. And I don't know how else I can put this, that I am. Grateful for you singlehandedly bringing us all out of the simulation. How did you do it?

[wittingly]

[ Ian doesn't steer away from eye contact. Doesn't seem bothered or intimidated by it, he isn't shy, he isn't self-conscious. He has never had social anxiety, and his casual unobtrusive friendly confidence has been a practiced talent since high school. Admittedly, it started as a desperate bid for friendship, it developed through peer pressure, but eventually as he got older it became natural. More effortless.

Why worry about surface level interactions? The top layer is bullshit, it isn't real. People are easy. Social is easy. You say the right things, you smile right, you ask the right questions and you demonstrate empathy, it's easy to make someone believe that you're closer than you are.

And then eventually the relationship ends because all relationships do, you slip out without having given any of yourself away, and they rarely even notice that it's happening until it's already over. Oh shit, I haven't talked to Ian in a while, I wonder how he's doing.

And then it's done.

No point getting worked up about something like that.

Which isn't to say he's entirely disingenuous, he does like people. He likes learning about them, he likes getting to know them, he likes the friendly period while it lasts - sometimes that's a few years, sometimes it's just a few weeks, sometimes it's two or three meetings and then you fall out of each other's orbit. He gets his fulfillment during this time. Gets to pretend like he doesn't have any deeper running issues, because he surely can't, right? He knows people he has a social life, he's friendly, he knows Greg's cat's name, that's relating to people right?

Close enough. Good enough. Didn't really matter at the end of the fucking world anyway, why bother when everyone's gonna die.

His smile goes from wide to smaller, but sincere. ]

Well, I'll be honest, it's a little bit untrue to call it single-handed. I gotta give credit where it's due. I'm not a fighter, and that bunker was fucking full of... nightmare fuel. It took a hell of a lot people a lot stronger than me to get in.

[ He peels up his sleeve a little to show the wide swath of bandage. He'd probably be dead, because even with a battle-trained escort he took a deep gauge to somewhere disturbingly close to his neck. ]

But if you wanna know the deep, mysterious complexities of how I ended it...

[ He leans in close, conspiratorially, glancing left and then right like it's a big secret.

Stage whispers: ]

I found the power cord and snipped it with wire cutters.

[ Yep. No big genius hacking initiate system CSI Miami two people one keyboard scene. Just chopping the power source to the system. ]

[slavophile]

( William hasn't heard anybody's heroic story. This is the first time he's hearing about it at all and the story is entertaining coming from Ian. It's amusing and it's drawing him in further, literally as he leans forward. First, he leans to take a better look at his bandage and next when Ian leans.

William's own grin peeks through, before he laughs. )

That may not be mysteriously complex, but, it worked.

( Not breaking that eye contact and not leaning back just yet, he tips his glass against Ian's. )

Every part of a plan matters. And every person in the plan. That's bravery, Ian. Vigilante bravery.

[wittingly]

[ He settles back a few inches afterward, lips tugging up on one side, amused by the whole thing - himself, the absurdity of the solution, William's reaction.

More than that, amused and entertained by the game going on here. Ian loves flirting - even if it's going nowhere, whether or not it's platonic, whether it's with a straight guy or a 45 year old married woman, it doesn't matter. It's light, teasing, it's sort of like the opposite of giving someone shit - leaves people feeling better rather than running the risk of hurt feelings for the sake of rapport.

He adopts an air of obviously false self-congratulation. ]

Well, you know, what can I say? Sometimes people are just born heroes. I do what I can for the greater good, saving the day, conquering evil, you know. Pretty much a standard Tuesday.

[slavophile]

( Ian leans back and William mirrors him, settling into the chair, the glint in his eye still apparent. He may be rusty, but for William, rusty is apparently a good thing. It's refreshing and something he hasn't done in too long. Flirting. )

Funny, your standard Tuesday is usually my Friday. Spending the week planning whatever it is we need to do. Most events happen on the weekends. And crimes. ( Weird trend. ) Joking about it doesn't make you less of a hero. You're a hero, Ian. You saved not just me, but an entire city. Some people inside, they weren't right. Judas made it harder for them. You cut off his access. Single-handedly. You're owed way more than that drink. And even my overwhelming congratulations. I'm thinking, key to the city? Night in the swankiest hotel in New Amsterdam, accompanied by yours truly out of the goodness of my heart because the invitation can't go to waste.

[wittingly]

[ Rusty isn't exactly the word Ian might use here. He's doing a truly impressive job at being smooth, or maybe that's just built-in billionaire CEO attitude.

It's not that he's impressed by money, or by clout, or by high class. He's actually really not. He grew up with a single mom, beneath the poverty line in a mining town called Weaverville. The only reason he made it to college was through scholarships designed specifically to get people like him out of areas like that, and then he busted his ass straight on through grad school.

When he finally got taken on at Berkeley, it was full of snobby assholes. Too many people too proud of their family money, too defensive of the fact that Berkeley's technically a public university and just shy of Ivy League. You seen one, you've seen 'em all.

What's getting to him is just the rapport, just the fun of ping-ponging the ball back and forth. Trying to keep up, trying to stay in the game, almost like a little friendly competition. He likes that first mental part of- whatever this is, casual flirting, maybe a hookup, maybe just a friends-who-flirt dynamic. Whatever. He's a fan of it. ]

You keep flattering my ego like this and I'll let you take me to any swanky hotel you want. Might even let you sleep on the bed.

[ A little tilt to his head, and it's followed by a concession. ]

I gotta be honest, I won't be able to tell the difference. After the last eighteen months back home, this fucking safe house is swanky to me.

[slavophile]

( Nothing in William is built-in. Everything is learned. Fitting in took time and gaining that confidence, that came with experience and a legacy he instinctively hid. He didn't have the Queen name to live with, nobody could know who his father is, so they didn't. He built the company from the ground up. He became determined. He lived his life.

He'd lived half a life anyway. He did the good he could do, but it wasn't until the hozen activated until he discovered what he was meant to do.

His after hours job.

No matter how rusty William is at anything, he is always giving his 110%. )

As much as I'd like to sleep on a bed with you in a safe house full of strangers, I'm going to cling to our hypothetical hotel date. Hypothetical because I'm not sure there is a mayor and any money I'd use to check us in isn't in this reality. Or... converted even if it were. But, I'll keep flattering you. What else would you like to hear?

[wittingly]

[ Yeah, that's about what he was thinking would be the case. Anybody with enough money for one of those swanky hotels probably wouldn't still be riding it out in this safe house full of strangers and a shared communal bathroom. Still, he's never one to dampen a joke just because of practical logistics.

He shrugs a shoulder. ]

You could go back to pretending like my power's badass, that was an uplifting twenty seconds for me.

[ Said while sliding the fork back over to the center of the table and then... changing it to a butter knife.

Such impressive. Much awe. Wow. ]

[slavophile]

Did I do that?

( Is that what he was doing? )

I think your power could be really useful, especially in a pinch. Have you discovered any limitations? Can you only make a utensil another utensil?