multiversallogs | Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Catenrat party.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Givdi the 22nd of Toidaren
Notes: The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread. When your characters are ready to leave, they'll be given a little wooden cheese, a glass fish, and a voucher for a big basket of snacks.
Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Above the doorway and wound through a few of the sets of antlers some enterprising soul has placed a garland decorated with little blue and green fish.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A minute, or five," Olivia admits easily. "I'm still kind of... absorbing everything. I don't know why I thought diving head-first into a party this big would help." She laughs and shakes her head ruefully. "Make or break me, I suppose. Put me in front of an anomaly that could potentially tear apart the universe, and I won't flinch. But this..."

Her eyes get wide for a moment, pulling a face at her own expense. "Sorry. I'm oversharing. I've either had too much beer, or not enough." She offers out her hand, shaking off her jitters for a moment. "I'm Olivia."

He shakes his head, holding up a hand to indicate it's just fine. He enjoys people who speak their minds, being one himself.

"It's fine," he says, chuckling. "Don't worry about it. And I'm Jim," he tells her as he shakes her hand, "Jim Kirk. Sounds like you're new-ish to the city, unless I misunderstand?"

"No, you got that right. Not a fresh arrival, but still in that adjustment period." Olivia threads her thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. "It's nice to meet you. You been here long yourself?"

"It's been, um..."

He has to pause to think about it, and that disturbs him mildly, to think he's been here so long the length of time isn't an exact number at the forefront of his thoughts anymore.

"Four months or so. Sometimes I swear it feels like I'm still adjusting. You found work yet?"

She bites her lip, a little sheepish as she admits, "Not yet. Nothing permanent. I run an odd errand here and there, but..." A small sigh escapes her lips. "I keep telling myself that I'll figure out how to get home soon, so I shouldn't get myself invested in anything here." The quirk to Olivia's lips is somewhat sad, "Even though all evidence points to that being impossible."

"I understand. I did the same myself. Didn't commit to anything full-time because I was sure I was getting out." He offers a sympathetic look. "But I've been making an informal study of the place, and I gotta admit, our chances don't look good. I'm not giving up, though."

"They really don't..." She doesn't dwell on the futility of that statement and instead perks up a bit. "So, did you find work? Are they hiring? I used to be with the Department of Defense before I came here. I'm not sure how well those skills translate to something available here, though..."

He smiles, mildly amused by her response. "All kinds of skills wind up translating, if in unexpected ways," he explains. "I'm a consultant to Hellsing, the Guild for Battling Preternatual Horrors. On-call crisis management and training, mostly in self-defense or hand-to-hand combat. I'm also teaching self-defense classes at one of the city's gyms."

The organization she named sounds familiar; Jim racks his brain a few moments before he comes up with the reference, from history classes. It was an agency from his planet's past, an organization tasked with coordinating national security and overseeing the armed forces of the United States of America. At least, he assumes that's the country she means, based on her accent.

"I'm guessing I'm a couple centuries ahead of you, but I'm more or less a military officer. That's how I've gotten my relevant skills and experience to translate. What did you do for the Department of Defense?"

"Hellsing. That's a name I've heard a couple times before." One she knows she really should have followed up on. Resigning herself to this place definitely means it's worth looking into now.

Her brows lift when he makes his estimate of their relevant positions in the history of their (theoretically) shared universe. "Centuries? I don't know why that surprised me." She laughs it off. "I'm in Fringe Division. We investigate abnormal occurrences. Things that threaten the stability of our universe. I'd say advanced scientific breakthroughs, but I suppose they'd be antiquated where you come from."

"I just assumed, from the Department of Defense," Jim offers. "That doesn't exist anymore where I'm from, in 2258. I serve in Starfleet, which is the exploratory and peacekeeping arm of the United Federation of Planets. I captain a starship."

He grins. "And you never know. Things aren't always as antiquated as you'd think. Especially when it comes to the stability of the universe, which is not something I have a lot of practical experience with. What kinds of things do you investigate?"

"Twenty-two-fifty-eight." Wow. "Yeah, I think we have a bit of a generation gap between us," Olivia teases. "A starship, huh? That sounds like a big deal." It's always a happy accident when ego stroking happens to coincide with genuine astonishment.

"Maybe not," she says of antiquated scientific techniques. "When something falls out of the realm of what we consider normal, Fringe Division is called in, and we investigate. Situations that appear paranormal or just impossible. Shapeshifters, time slips, bleed over from other universes. If it's strange, we look into it, figure out how to make it right."

"Well. It's only the Federation's flagship." Yes, it's a bit of a boast, but even as he says the words and summons the swagger, it's clear he's proud of what he's achieved, not just trying to impress.

He raises his eyebrows at her explanation. "That's definitely not something that would be antiquated in my time. We still grapple with those kinds of things once in a while."

"Good to know some things about the universe never change." Sort of. Knowing that stability might never be completely achieved both takes some of the pressure off her shoulders while simultaneously dimming hope just a little.

"It doesn't sound like science is actually too popular here. Magic seems to be the oddity of choice. Was that weird for you, too?"

"Completely." The boyish grin comes back, and he shakes his head. "I've been offered so many fixes for things involving charms, spells, magic items, the works. Working at Hellsing made me have to brush up on my knowledge of things I swore were made-up, back home. The state of technology threw me, too."

He digs around in his pocket, fishing out his CiD. "You have these," he says, waving it. "Pretty elaborate communication devices. But not much else in the way of computers. Trains but no motor vehicles. I have to wonder how much of what little technology there is is native, and how much was brought here by people like us."

"It's not like anything I'd have ever expected, that's for sure. I'd say what this place needs is a few great inventors from history, but it seems to be doing well enough on its own." And Olivia has seen first-hand too many times how new technology can literally destroy a world unprepared for it.

"Did you bring any tech with you?"

Jim nods, his lips curving in a half-smile. "I did," he replies. "Well, not so much brought with me as it showed up in that damned green room when I did. It's a PADD--a Personal Access Display Device. It's a--"

He gestures with his hands, indicating something rectangular, roughly the size of a clipboard. "--computer peripheral, meant to interface with the ship's computers or other computers and libraries. It's useless as an interface here, because it's lost those connections, but I have my own library and files stored on it. I don't carry it with me; it's not convenient to, and even with the crazy mix of technologies here I worry about something being too advanced." He shrugs. "Training dies hard, I guess. Did anything from your world come through with you?"

"We have something similar to that back home, actually. Doesn't interface with a starship, of course, but we can network between agents and HQ pretty efficiently." She shrugs, head tipping to one side, "Mine didn't follow me here, unfortunately."

When he asks about anything that did, she freezes (albeit blearily, thanks to those three pints), and debates for a moment how or whether to answer that. Ultimately, she decides to trust. "Yeah. I actually have some experimental tech from back home. I thought it was responsible for bringing me here in the first place." Olivia's brows hike upward for a moment. "Maybe it is."

His eyebrows raise too, at her suggestion. "You think it's possible?" He frowns, thoughtful, rolling one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I've been looking into all of this. Arrivals, disappearances, everything I can find connected to both. The pattern for winding up here--" He waves a hand, shaking his head-- "not that there is much of one, but technology hasn't seemed to be involved in it. But I'm not about to discount anything out of hand. You never know."

He eyes her a moment. "Maybe sometime we should get all this tech together. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Anything's possible, isn't it?" She gestures to their surroundings with a short sweep of upward-facing palm. Just look at where we are. "I was trying to cross between two universes. That's when I ended up here. I assumed the tech went haywire, you know?"

She catches his gaze and a smile curves her lips for a moment before laughter bubbles to her surface. "Sorry. That choice of words." Olivia waves it off and nods. "I think it's a good idea, actually. What's the worst that can happen? Apart from tearing a hole in the universe." End-of-the-world humour.

"...What? What wording?" His face is the very picture of innocence, but his eyes give it away, knowing, nearly twinkling with mischief. "And people have been predicting I'd screw up on that scale for years, and it hasn't happened yet. I think our odds are good. So. In the meantime. Want another drink?"

Seriousness is overrated, especially over holidays. Amusement shines in her green eyes, and not at his expense. So, Olivia grins and nods her head. "Sure. I think I could do with another." And that was very nearly a brow-waggle. "Shall we?" Pulling open the door to the building, she gestures inside.

He grabs the edge of the door, gesturing inward as well--look, he's a smartass and a pain in the ass, but he's a well-mannered one. He's also a starship captain and Starfleet beats proper and respectful conduct into its recruits. He wouldn't dream of preceding a lady through a door.

"What are you drinking and where do you prefer to sit?"

It's good to know that chivalry survives into the twenty-third century. With a gracious inclination of her head, Olivia ducks back inside the bar. "I'll stick with beer, I think. You can pick where we sit." It's a bit of give and take. "Company's more important than seating."

"I agree. Company's always more important." His gaze sweeps the room, lighting on two people leaving a table not far from the door, back away from most of the crowd. "I'll get the beer," he suggests, "and you grab that table before someone else gets there."

"Teamwork! I like it." 'Liv grins and offers a two-finger salute before she veers off toward the now-vacated table. She narrowly beats out some competition, pretending not to notice the way she's edged out another pair in search of a table. Early birds and worms.

She drums her nails on the table top absently while she waits, scanning the space casually with a faint smile still on her lips. She's actually enjoying herself, she realises. That was the point of attending the party tonight, of course, but there was some pessimism lingering. A notion that having fun might prove impossible. Her gaze drifts off to find Jim in the crowd again, watching and waiting for his return.

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