[OPEN!]

[charismatic]

Who: Will and YOU
What:Apartment hunting and meeting/re-meeting(?) folks, hopefully.
Where: He's running all over the city and also works out a Tinker's Lot, so feel free to pick wherever.
When: Givdi/Thursday, all day.
Notes: Heyyyy, giving this a try. :|b I never have anything interesting to put in this field.
Warnings: None!

Scheduling at Tinker's Lot can be a bit tricky - there's always someone testing something, but it's hard to tell how long any particular trial is going to last. Out of the several things Will's been hired to try in the last few days, only one or two have been anything approaching successful - but it means he usually has some downtime between jobs, at least. It also means that, since he only had a couple scheduled runs this morning, he's free to spend the rest of the day looking around for a place to live once it's time to leave the Inn at the end of the week. He's not exactly sure what his budget's going to be, then, but he's got enough of an idea to ride the train around town and look at what's available.

He's still a little bit sore, but his body is readjusting as quickly as can be expected to an entirely new set of exertions and conditions, so taking a long walk (even if half of it is spent crammed into a train compartment) is probably good for him.

Comments

[thenormalsquint]

One would rightfully question just what in the world Angela is doing kneedeep in junk at Tinker's Lot when she has nothing mechanical to tinker with that would require stray parts. But one would also be wrong as the wrongest thing in Wrongtown because within a pile of junk, there is treasure to be found and with treasure, there is art to be made.

Okay, so maybe there's not much Angela can do with a rusty pipe and some weird lightbulb looking thing, but she will fight the good and keep on searching.

[charismatic]

“Oop,” Will says, once the warning signal starts going off. He can't see whatever is setting it off, but that's not unusual. He thinks the only time he ever knows what's doing it is if he's on top of it. But anyway, it's not safe to keep standing around out in the open just because he can't see the thing. “Hey,” he says to the woman he was in the process of walking past, lifting the visor on his helmet and shouting a bit to be heard over all the noise. “The closest shelter is this way.”

[thenormalsquint]

Really? Is that how it's going to be today? Just because somebody is dumpster diving doesn't meant they don't have anything to call their own. Sheesh.

"Thanks. I'll make sure to tell the actual homeless people that," Angela replies with a neutral expression that still manages to look highly annoying. It's a learned skill for her.

[charismatic]

“No,” Will says, momentarily taken aback, but he's really shouting now that the siren is hitting high gear. “It's -” something explodes, close enough to feel and hear the shock but not to see it until the cloud of smoke goes up. “That,” he finishes. “We should get to cover before something worse happens.”

[thenormalsquint]

The shriek of the siren that she was just ignoring before now coupled with the explosion is enough to have Angela scrambling out of the pile of junk to stand next to Will, eyes wide and hands shaking.

"Well say so then!" Because this is totally his fault. Yes.

[charismatic]

Technically, it's been his fault before – well. More likely it was the fault of whoever made the machine, but he's been the one trying to drive before.

“This way,” Will says, and doesn't try to talk again until they're inside the little concrete box. It's marginally quieter in there – he doesn't quite have to shout to be heard. “Sorry about that,” he says. “It probably won't last too long.”

[thenormalsquint]

In the box, Angela's left to stand there, fiddling with the hem of her sweater as a couple of more explosions rock the place hard enough to vibrate the ground beneath their feet.

"What's it? Somebody trying to kill us?" Because that really is the first reason that comes to her mind.

[charismatic]

“Nah,” Will says. He's already acclimated enough to be a little blasé, but he doesn't want to be insensitive. Explosions are pretty scary, if you're not used to or not expecting them. “Someone just got overly ambitious with whatever they were making.” That would be pretty much everyone out here, really. “I'm Will,” he adds, offering her a hand to shake.

[thenormalsquint]

"Maybe they should make it at home and blow themselves up instead of innocent people." All she wanted was some scrap metal to tinker and make something with. She didn't want her own body to become scrap parts.

"I'm Angela," she says accepting his hand and only now looking at his face. "And you're cute." Simmer down, girl. You already have something simmering on the stove.

[charismatic]

“Thank you,” Will says, laughing. “You're pretty cute yourself.” This is not his first time flirting in dangerous situations. There are worse things. The sirens start winding down before he finishes the last word, though, and he pauses, listening thoughtfully. “Give it another minute,” he says, just to be safe. They were close enough to whatever triggered it that aftershocks might affect them. “Should be fine after that.”

[thenormalsquint]

"So no more risk of being blown to smithereens?" No, there is always that risk in Tinker's Lot, but at least there's a risk of being blown to smithereens with a nice face?

Just when things are starting to settle, there's another explosion and the siren winds itself right up again. Angela sighs and then points to Will's hard hat. "Where can I get one of those?"

[charismatic]

“There's are some you can borrow up at the front desk,” Will says, though desk is probably a misnomer. It's mostly a rickety shack with lockers and a lazy attendant who is supposed to keep track of who's where on what day, but it's really a matter of whether or not anyone tells him anything. There are always extra hardhats up there, though. “They don't look like this – this is mine from home, “he taps on the helmet absently - “but they should have something that fits you.” They do have to account for a variety of headshapes, after all.

[thenormalsquint]

"But I want that one," Angela retorts, jabbing a finger in the general direction of Will's head with a smile. No, she doesn't, really, but they have to make conversation about sometimes until they won't get blown up anymore. "I think you should give me yours and go get one from the front desk."

[charismatic]

Will laughs. “You can wear it for now, if you want,” he says, pulling it off his head and detaching the tether. If it'll make Angela feel better until things stop exploding for long enough to get up to the front and get her one, he doesn't mind. “It shouldn't even sweaty,” he says, holding it out to her. He's teasing – it's not sweaty at all, because the entire suit is designed to dry super quickly.

[thenormalsquint]

Giving it a playful sniff, Angela plops it on her head where it doesn't fit quite as snugly as it should. "At least it doesn't smell like boy."

Not that she has a problem with boys smelling like boys. Then again, Angela has no problem with boys at all. History says so.

"You do construction at home?" she asks with her head fully secure and the hat slipping down into her eyes. She looks more like a little kid playing dressup than a grown woman.

[charismatic]

Will reaches over to prop up the visor more securely. The helmet is definitely too big for her, but he doesn't want the plexiglass sealing it off and bringing up a bunch of confusing readouts. “It looks good on you,” he says, grinning. “And no. I'm a pilot.” That sounds better than soldier, at least.

[thenormalsquint]

"This doesn't look like an Air Force helmet," she says with a laugh, knocking on her head. "Unless you fly planes in space around aliens because if you do, I know a guy who would love to speak to you."

She is completely joking. She doesn't think Will does this nor would she release Hodgins on anybody who does work in space.

[charismatic]

“Sort-of Air Force, planes: no, space: yes, aliens: no,” Will says, grinning. He's starting to enjoy how surprised people are by it. He can't imagine that there aren't other people from some sort of space continuity somewhere in Baedal, but he hasn't met any of them yet and, judging by the reactions he's gotten thus far, neither have a sizable chunk of his cohort.

[thenormalsquint]

Angela looks at him for a moment, as if she wants to believe. She's met weirder people who've done weirder things for a living back in the City, but a space pilot isn't one of them.

"Yeah right," she chuckles, thinking his grin is just him joking.

[charismatic]

That's enough to make Will laugh, too; he doesn't think he's had anyone disbelieve him yet. “No, really,” he says. “Giant robots and everything.”

[thenormalsquint]

"Look, you don't need to lie to impress people." She continues laughing, hard enough that the helmet slips down again. "Or at least make it believable."

[charismatic]

Will shakes his head, but he's still grinning. “I can show you pictures,” he offers. He unzips the neck of his flight suit just enough to dig his phone out; he used to only wear it around his neck in combat situations at home, but he's taken to wearing it like that all the time, here, if he doesn't leave it at home. He flicks it on, the holoprojection a neat little square of light in the dim light. He flips through the older pictures quickly, enough to catch glimpses of a fluffy white dog, of curly hair and a warm smile, but he doesn't slow down until he gets to pictures of a half-disassembled mechanoid suit with a couple perplexed fellow rebels clambering around on it. “We didn't have a tech on site,” he says dryly. The tried diagnosing the problem via photos – it hadn't gone very well.

[thenormalsquint]

The cute animal loving part of Angela is tempted to ask him to stop on the dog, but the space photo is so much more interesting. She grabs the phone from his hand(how polite), and continues flicking through the mechanoid pictures with a look of disbelief on her face.

"Are these Photoshopped? I can tell when a picture is Photoshopped, you know." But even now she can tell these pictures are the real deal. He is a space pilot.

[charismatic]

Will isn't exactly sure what photoshopped means, but he can guess. He shakes his head again, laughing at the look on her face, but he can't mind too much. “None of those where you're from, huh?”

[molotovmartinis]

One of the things that happens after you die and become a hideous hybrid demonic creature and live for a few thousand years is a strange modification of your memory: Balthazar remembers lots of things, but not always with the greatest of detail. He is, however, good with faces, good at recognizing individuals — the ability to see people for what they are, generally speaking, is a great help there too.

So William is recognizable from Megan's party, but he has yet to connect that face with the brief text conversation they had on the network. In turn, Balthazar adjusts the field of illusions he constantly wears so that he looks more or less as he had at the party, apart from his clothing — then, it'd been more informal, but right now he's back in a three piece suit. As he passes William along the street, he pauses to do a theatrical doubletake.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" He says it with a broad, oil slick pleasant smile.

[charismatic]

Will stops, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't have nearly as many years of memories to manage, but he's not especially prone to forgetting about meeting people – especially not here, where he's meeting almost everyone he interacts with for the first time. Someone looking this sharp would be particularly memorable.

So, “No, sorry,” he says, not quite apologetic. “I don't think we've met.”

[molotovmartinis]

Balthazar smiles at him, careless yet somehow sharp. "I never forget a face," he says, which is true enough, and as it is whenever he speaks the truth, might come off a little ominous. "But it's of no consequence."

He steps back to let Will pass — just not all the way. Will would still have to pass close to him or step around.

[charismatic]

Will stays still, a little mistrustful but mostly genuinely curious. There are no alarms going off yet, but there's that tense feeling in his temples, like it might be sounding soon. “Where did you think we met?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. He's too new to forget having met anyone yet, he's sure, but he wants to know what this guy's going to say.

[molotovmartinis]

The slightly theatrical pause implies he's trying to remember, but his eyes don't move the way people usually move them when they try to recall events or faces. They just stay right on William.

"The party," he says after a moment. "The girl who just invited the entire Ceidary Blue network. That must be it."

And his smile both invites and mocks any relief that might come from conclusion. "Of course, I do get around a lot, but I'm pretty sure it was there."

[charismatic]

“Ah,” Will says. “I was there,” he adds, though he supposes he doesn't need to. “I don't remember you, though. Sorry.” He's not used to being this awkward in interpersonal situations, but he can't quite read this guy and it's putting him off.