It's Not Much (James)

[Kateri Rivera]

((Continued from A New Chapter))

Kateri's flat wasn't far from the bar. That was nice, and was probably nicer for her passenger, as Kateri was many things, but a safe driver wasn’t one of them. She was impatient, she muttered to herself—although mostly in Spanish, for the sake of her companion, and because it was much more fun to swear in—but at least took some care not to accelerate too suddenly or slam too hard on the breaks.

Most of the time. Her father hadn’t let her get her license in Ireland for this exact reason, but once she had come to the States, there hadn’t been anyone to stop her. He claimed it was a miracle she had lasted this long. Kateri had to agree, but she enjoyed it anyways. And at least she kept the car in fairly good shape. Christopher had taught her that. If you were going to be a risky and somewhat stupid driver, at least make sure your car could handle it. So even though it was a not particularly interesting imported and older car of a dull grey, the inside was clean, the tires were properly inflated, and it ran well. A dangerous driver, yes. However, she didn’t want to end up a dead one.

The apartment complex was fairly empty, so it wasn’t hard to find a space—now that she could do—fairly close to the door. She fetched one of the suitcases and, after pausing to wait for James, made a small gesture toward the metal stairs that led up to a door on the second floor.

“This way,” she said, then headed up the stairs, fumbled for her keys for a minute, which had rather colorful and unique plastic covers on the top, then finally found the right one and pushed open the door, turning on the light.

“It’s not much,” she said, stepping aside to let her temporary house guest in. “But I figure it’s better than a bench, and it’s always warm.”

At least she had cleaned it this time, she added to herself. The desk wasn’t piled with papers that were nearly as tall as she was, and the small table actually had room. She nodded to the door to the right.

“That’s the guest bedroom,” she said. “And mine’s off to the left. No pets to worry about. Not anything interesting at all, actually.” But maybe it was time to get a pet…if her landlord allowed it. Well, even if he didn’t. Kat had her ways. “And bathroom’s over there.” Another nod to the last door. “Where do you want your stuff?”

[James Martin]

(OOC: Apologies for time taken, been gigging with the band)

James got out of the car slowly, more than a little shaken up by the relatively short journey to Kateri's. She seemed to treat signalling as an optional extra, and speed limits as merely a challenge. Grabbing his case, he followed her up the stairs and into her apartment.

It was a decent little home, and seemed much tidier than she had intimated it would be. Besides, it really did beat the hell out of a bench and especially - as was the last resort - a comfy bit of grass.

"Don't worry, I'll take the cases into the room," James replied, "saves me having to sneak out here to get changed in the morning."

James had to disagree with her about how interesting her apartment was. Just seeing the living space of another person utterly fascinated James. He let his eyes wander around the room. It was so tempting to pick up objects and let their memories pour into him, just everyday memories but utterly extraordinary in every way. James wondered if other people sometimes took the time to contemplate how incredible it was that they were even alive, and how utterly unbelievable humanity as a whole was.

Take something as simple as a bus stop, for instance. How did humanity get from hunting mammoths with spears to politely enquiring whether this was the front of the queue for the metal contraption which would, in exchange for small bits of metal, take you to where you wanted to go. Or at least, vaguely where you wanted to go. How did we get to school exams, to stock markets, to bloody society.

Unfortunately, people tended to object if you started peering into the memories of random things in their homes. James had gotten himself into embarrassing situations more than once, including an intriguing affair involving a next door neighbour, an electric foot massager and a hairbrush. Boy, had he found it hard to meet that man's eyes the next morning.

Pulling himself into the present, James made ready to deposit his items in the room. Stopping, he turned to his host.

"Kateri, I just wanted to say thanks...thanks a lot. I really appreciate you doing this for me, it would have been easy for you to just tell me where to go. I know I seem like a bit of a head case, well OK I am a head case - that's memory overwriting for you - but I won't forget this. It's not often I find somebody who can put up with me for too long, or I them if I'm being completely honest. You seem nice. Anyway...thanks. I'll find a way to repay you."

Admittedly, 'finding a way to repay' her sparked off a whole reaction of suggestions in his head, but he chose to ignore them. God, he thought, I must be getting old. Realising he had assumed a distant expression, he laughed, smiling with a momentary feeling of being utterly carefree. He was so glad to be back.

[Kateri Rivera]

((No big! I hope it's been going well.))

Kateri noticed his curious looks around her apartment. She really didn’t think it was that interesting. It was just a room, a place she lived. She’d been there for a couple of years, but she’d never managed to really find things to clutter it with. She was just one person, and she was at work most of the time, focused on work, or visiting family. Yeah, she had some things. Some plants in her room—cactuses. She could never keep anything else alive. But homey… well, she definitely couldn’t describe it as that. But it was still nice to have company, and she supposed that if he found it interesting, it couldn’t be as bad as all that. And it wasn’t. It just wasn’t like those warm and friendly apartments she’d always seen on TV, that’s all.

“In the room it is,” she replied cheerfully. “No problem there.” She made to carry the one she had over to the other room, but paused as he addressed her and turned a curious look to him. He seemed so…serious about it. She’d just been helping out a rather odd man out because she liked the way he spoke and wanted, she would admit, a bit of a taste of home. She hadn’t thought that it would lead to anything in particular. He worked for the school, she worked for the school…no harm, no foul. Simple enough. She hadn’t expected him to be so grateful about it. How often did he rest on benches? Ah, well, it didn’t matter. He was here now. And she liked that carefree smile he had. It made him seem less disconnected and distant.

“Well, you got the wine, didn’t you?” she inquired after a moment, offering him a friendly smile. “And I swear, you’ll be repaying me soon enough. I intend to make you tell as many of your stories as you can. But don’t go calling me nice yet. Just ask one of my students. Most of them think I’m the devil.” She opened the guest room door and stepped aside to let him in, then set his case down at the door. It was slightly more austere than the rest of the house, but the bed seemed to be in good repair and even had a nice set of sheets and a comforter.

“But if you think of anything else,” she added, because she couldn’t help it (and for the same reason, her grin became a little more…sly) “feel free to let me know. I’m always up for suggestions. In the meantime, I should probably get started on grading the homework assignments for my classes. You can get settled, and then we can try the wine.” She nodded to him, smiled again, then slipped out, fetched her papers from her pack, and settled down at the desk in order to see how bad it was today. One could never tell with the students. Sometimes, it seemed to go rather smoothly. Other times, it didn’t work out so well. Judging by the one paper she looked at, this was going to be one of the latter. She sighed, tugged her hair out of the braid so it settled around her shoulders, and bent her head over her work.

[James Martin]

(OOC: RIGHT!!! I'm back. Huge apologies, 6 shows in 10 days, hardly been home long enough to eat, let alone internet it up. Back to a human schedule now!!!*Wipes sweat from brow* )

James grinned. It made such a change to find someone he could find himself relaxing around. For the first time in what seemed like years, he could feel himself just living. It could also be, he internally admitted to himself, that his new set of meds were helping the process, but he wasn't complaining right now.

"Back in a second." Picking up his suitcases, he made his way into the spare bedroom, carefully not letting his gaze be too drawn as she let her hair fall onto her shoulders.

Closing the door gently behind him, James took in his temporary lodgings. They shared the same simple habitability that the rest of Kateri's flat eschewed, and he was pleased to note plenty of floorspace. Setting his cases down in a corner, he stripped off his outer layers of clothing, leaving only his open-cuffed shirt and brown corduroys. The bed looked extremely inviting, but he remembered that there was wine requiring his joint attention. More to the point, he actually had someone to share it with, an unusual circumstance in itself.

Strolling back out of the room with a pair of the bottles and a small sheaf of papers, he found Kateri huddled over the homework assignments she had mentioned. He set the bottles down on the table meaningfully.

"Sorry, I don't suppose you've got any glasses, have you?" James didn't really have any issue with drinking from the bottle as such - years of dependence on the stuff had seen to that - but glasses were just so much more...civilised.

[Kateri Rivera]

((No worries! I've been in the middle of midterms. But I'm FINALLY done (in time for finals) so posting should become more consistent now.xD I hope the shows went well!))

He was certainly a quiet fellow. She hadn’t really heard him rustling around in the room when she had been focused on the papers. They weren’t all that bad, she reminded herself. Yes, a few of them didn’t seem to be actually listening to what she’d written, but she was kind of used to that. Besides, it hadn’t been an easy lesson anyways. Oh, well. She sank down in her chair and kept recording all the grades until, at last, the clunk of the bottles being put on the table drew her attention upwards.

“Glasses?” she blinked once or twice, then grinned. “You don’t think I drink it just out of the bottle, do you? I don’t have wine that often. Here.” She set the papers down in their typical, messy stack, then got to her feet and walked over to the kitchen, standing on tip-toe to find the wine glasses. There they were. She fetched two down, then returned back to the kitchen, set them down on the table next to the bottles. “There were are.” She eyed it, then sighed. “But a corkscrew…that would be good.” She returned to the kitchen, found the corkscrew, then offered it to him. “I’m sorry if the room’s a little dusty,” she added as she moved the papers to the desk. “But I hope it serves your needs anyways.”

If he’d been sleeping on a bench, he probably wouldn’t mind, but at least she could offer the services of a duster…

[James Martin]

James took the corkscrew with a smile of thanks, and set about de-corking the first bottle. He hadn't even noticed much dust around the place, but then again his standard of 'dusty' was probably worlds away from Kateri's. He had suppressed a wry smile at her incredulity that he may have thought she drunk wine from the bottle. Well, you never knew.

Easing the cork out slowly - none of that ridiculous show boating that invariably spilt good wine - James poured two generous helpings into the glasses provided. Proffering a glass to his host, he gave his own a precursory sniff. A few seconds more. James considered it a crime that so few people allowed a good red a minute or two of breathing time before consumption.

"So what got you into teaching here?" James wasn't making small talk, he was genuinely interested. When it came to his list of things he would do for a living, teachings Maths at an Institute for Meta-Humans came pretty damn near the bottom. There were so many more things that just appealed to him more. Cleaning toilets, for example.

"I mean, I pretty much fell into research because of the retrocognition, and Meta-Humanity's history is something that has always fascinated me anyway. But weather control...Math...I can't quite figure that one out, to be completely honest."

[Kateri Rivera]

He knew how to uncork a bottle, she reflected, watching him curiously. That was fairly rare. She’d known a lot of people who didn’t know how to do it properly at all. Champagne especially. Fizzing seemed to be standard for champagne. But this man clearly knew his wines. He even let his breathe for a moment longer. Not bad, not bad. She took a sniff of her own, smiled, and then leaned back in her seat.

“Just because I happen to have weather control doesn’t mean that I can’t want to do something else,” she protested. “I happen to like math. Besides, I wasn’t going to be a weather woman. Now that would just be bad.” She chuckled and set the glass down. “All right…how I got into teaching here.” Now wasn’t that a long kind of story. Well, she could just focus on the basics. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to be one of the good math teachers I’d gotten when I was in school. There aren’t many of them. After I got my teaching’s credential, I taught around for a while, then decided to apply to Hammel. Now I work here. End of story. See? Not that interesting.”

She picked up her glass of wine again and took a sip, then smiled. “Not bad, not bad at all. You have a very good taste in wine.” She tilted her head to the side. “My turn, I think. What’s the most interesting piece of information you’ve ever encountered from your research? C’mon. I want a story.”

[James Martin]

James listened intently. Despite her assurance that it wasn't that interesting, he found it fascinating how someone could get into a career such as teaching. He supposed that it was because it was such an alien idea to him.

Her next question didn't catch him off-guard so much as just make him think. He had been asked the question before once or twice, but hadn't answered, simply because some of the things he had seen...well, they weren't meant to be shared. However, he got the feeling that Kateri wouldn't take no for an answer. James took a deep breath.

"A few years ago, I was travelling in Europe, trying to find evidence of meta-humans in the Second World War. I'd heard rumours of metas in the war; in particular the Nazis were fond of experimental warfare, so I started in Germany.

It took ages to find a decent place to start. Sure, I could have just picked up random objects in the first museum I found, but it would have taken years to sift through all those memories. Instead, I had to do a lot of footwork. Reading books, trying to figure out where these secret experimental facilities were, and how best to access them. Unfortunately, as you can imagine my contacts in the authorities were rather...cool towards my research. I'd go as far as to say that at times they were deliberately obstructive.

Eventually, I managed to track down an abandoned lab complex out in the middle of nowhere. It was buried deep inside a forest, it took me a couple of days on foot to reach the complex.

An old examination table told me most of what I had expected, and much of what I had feared. During the war years, kids with meta potential were smuggled out to these remote locations, and used for military research. Some of the doctors theorised that certain abilities were linked to different parts of the body, and tried to remove certain...parts of metas and link them up to machines, attempting to harness the meta powers in a mechanical construct. Imagine a gun that could should balls of charged energy, a machine that would allow you to see the future if you plugged yourself into it."

James could feel himself clamming up as the memories seeped into his conscious mind. Like a wave rushing up a beach, they began to wash over him. Screams. Children crying. Electricity. Despite knowing what was ahead, he plunged on with a macabre sense of morbid interest, as if re-examining the events in the open would somehow give them some meaning.

"Some of the things they did to those kids...it was terrible. But the interesting thing, the strangest thing, happened in 1943. A messenger arrived at the base, and suddenly the whole operation just stopped. No more kids came in. The ones who were there, well they were for the most part beyond anybody's help, and so they were...put out of their misery. I caught a few snatches of conversation between the doctors, something to do with an agreement.

From what I gathered, some kind of secret deal was signed by the Axis powers and the Allies, an accord. But this wasn't just any old deal, oh no. This was an agreement for all parties to refrain from using meta humans as weapons in the war. Meaning, the WWII governments knew about meta humanity, at least at the top end, and in certain military echelons. They all used meta humans, but it seems that eventually the risk of exposing the rest of the world to meta humanity was just becoming too great. Of course, the damage to so many had already been done. But the idea, that the heads of the powers could have known about metas, and decided on a whim a deal that may have saved so many of us...it's crazy."

Even as he talked, James felt his mind flooding. Emotions overwhelmed him. Despite being comfortable and happy here talking to Kateri, suddenly he could feel a knot of fear building in his stomach...they were coming for him next, surely. As surely as night follows day, he felt grief envelop him. Grief that he was a professor of medical science and yet was ordered to carry out these obscene experiments, the children were dying, and for what?

Back in the real world, James showed little outward sign of anything, but his eyes were ablaze, and his skin was ice cold. He stared pensively at his glass, and then took a large, steadying gulp.

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri wasn’t really the thoughtful kind of person. Yeah, she’d had her moments. She supposed she’d had to. After her husband had died, and she’d been left alone, she’d had to have a long thought about where her life had taken her. Being alone, a widow and a foreigner in a strange land, all at the age of twenty-one, just old enough to drown her sorrows if she wanted to. But that had always seemed like the easy way out to her. Yes, how simple it would have been to simply pick up a glass and use its contents to forget for a night. But it would only have worked for a night. And in the morning, she’d have woken up with a headache and that dry-mouthed feeling, and for what? Temporary relief. No, that wasn’t her style. So she’d woken up every morning, had made herself move, and do every task in front of her, and that was how she’d survived.

No, she wasn’t prone to introspection or overthinking things. She knew there were negatives in life and dealt with them as competently as she could, viewing that they were something that just had to be moved past so one could reach the better side again. What was wrong with that? Yes, she was a glass half full kind of person. Or, to be more precise, the kind of person who looked forward to the glass being half-empty so someone, preferably friendly, could refill it.

Hey, it worked.

She hadn’t been expecting a serious story. James, so far, hadn’t seemed like the serious man. Except that wasn’t quite true. He’d gotten quite into their discussion earlier, hadn’t he? And this was something that he seemed to have thought about quite a lot. Then again, maybe that wasn’t it. Retrocognition was his gift, wasn’t it? Perhaps that was the problem. History wasn’t seen from a third person’s perspective. It was seen with someone else’s eyes, always. That was always why she’d thought of it as ‘his story’ instead of the usual blending of the words. So for retrocognition….did he see it through someone’s eyes from that situation? Wouldn’t that be pleasant. But for now, she just listened, watching him with her eyebrows drawing together a bit. And when he went silent, and she noticed that flame in his eyes, she leaned forward. That didn’t look good. She’d seen something similar before, in some of her husband’s friends that she’d stayed in contact with. Only usually, they’d been shaking, or just…completely paralyzed. He wasn’t entirely out of it. Her eyes watched him as he lifted the glass and took a hefty gulp, and then she pressed her lips together.

She’d never been any good at this whole comfort thing. She could try, but it took her a long time to find out what would work for the people she cared about. For a near stranger…well, she could only try. So she rose from the seat, picked up the bottle to pour him another glass—no matter what her policy on alcohol was, he looked like he needed it—then set the bottle down and studied him for a moment.

“James?” she said at last. The winds were howling through the windows. She momentarily switched her attention to calm them, then turned back to him and, very carefully, placed her hand on his own. His skin was very cold. Didn’t retrocognition work through touch? She really should have paid more attention to all those lessons on this whole thing… “James, are you all right? I didn’t want you to…to think about that kind of thing. James?”

And what would she do if he didn’t answer? She probably should have taken the wine away.

“You really shouldn’t drink wine like that,” she added, in a rather pitiful attempt at humor. “I have good whiskey if its shots you want.”

Not a lot of it. She usually used it for cooking. But he did seem to be fond of his alcohol, this one.

[James Martin]

Kateri's voice made James jump. He smiled in gratitude as she filled his glass back up.

"It's all right," he replied, somewhat hoarsely, "sometimes it just gets a little difficult to separate the emotions into the present and the past."

James experienced a sudden surge as her hand touched his. Unbidden, he felt the unmistakeable presence of her memories roaring towards him. Cursing, he hurriedly pushed them back, sealing his mind from hers. Usually, his guard being up was enough to ward off memories, but he seemed to have inadvertently let it slip whilst he was telling the story.

The whiskey line made him smile inside. Of all the drinks in the world, he had the most intense dislike for whiskey. A little bit of him wondered if he'd had a bad experience in his youth, a forgotten time with his head down a toilet, maybe? At any rate, the stuff made him feel ill without fail.

James glanced at a clock on the wall. It really was getting late, and Kateri said she was working up at the school. Besides, that little episode had tired him out, and he could feel the beginnings of a killer headache. Time for sleep, he thought.

"Kateri, it's been nice to chat with you, but I think I should be getting off to bed now, if that's OK with you? If you give me a shout when you're getting up, then I'll leave when you do. Is that alright with you?"

[Kateri Rivera]

He seemed a bit shaky. Kateri’s lips pressed together, but she removed her hand from his and took a few steps back. Well, he’d seemed grateful for more of the alcohol—a bad sign, in her experience, but she pushed that thought aside as something that she’d deal with later, if at all—and he smiled at the whiskey line, but he wasn’t going to say much. Retrocognition seemed to be tricky indeed. All she had to worry about was keeping her emotions in check. She settled down in the other chair, and when he spoke at last, she nodded.

“Of course it’s okay. You’re a guest, not my servant or slave. You can do whatever you want, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone or scare me too badly. But you’re welcome to come along tomorrow. I’ll be leaving a bit early, but you’re welcome to sleep in the car if you need to.” She waved him out. “Good night, James. It’s been very…interesting talking to you.”

That was for damn sure. But it was a good thing he was going to bed in any case. She still had work she needed to complete, and it wasn’t going to work well if she was distracted. And he was a distracting man, in a rather…unusual way.

“Sleep well,” she added. She gathered up the wine bottles, took them into the kitchen to put them away, then settled back down to get back to work on the homework assignments she was supposed to be grading. Well, it was going to be a long night.

((Feel free to skip to morning, or whatever.))

[James Martin]

(OOC: I was thinking /thread then pick another one up later, to represent another meeting?)

[Kateri Rivera]

((Sure! Sounds good.))