A New Chapter... [James Martin/OPEN/M]

[James Martin]

It said more about James than he would ever care to admit, that he chose to come here first rather than the Institute.

The pub - or bar, as they seemed to be fond of calling them this side of the pond - was a dark, yet not unpleasant establishment. As memory had it, the majority of the wines were actually quite palatable, the patrons generally kept to themselves, and you could always find a pleasantly chubby barmaid who would humour your amorous advances as the night grew older, and let you off with only a mild blow to the head if you tried to make good on them.

The journey had been long and, more to the point, dry. Gods only knew what almost two days of constant travelling with only a modest hip flask to live off had done to him. Making a mental note to never talk himself into making such a foolish excursion again, James ordered a tall glass full of ice and an anonymous clear liquid, as well as his usual 'large of the best red you've got'. It had been a very long journey.

Receiving his drinks, James returned to the table where he had deposited what amounted to all of his worldly possessions - one large, battered black leather suitcase stuffed with clothes, and another - brown but no less battered - case that contained his collection of research papers and stockpile of meds. Glancing around furtively, he quickly opened the brown case and extracted a small packet marked 'AM 10/2'.

The clear liquid stung his dry throat as he swallowed down the pills, but the relief made the coughing fit that bit more bearable. Pulling out a journal from the case, James gave the wine a precursory sniff. It smelled of slipping standards, if only slightly.

Hmm, accommodation. As much as he enjoyed this place, James doubted that the lodgings were of much substance. During most of his time away conducting research, having a bed to sleep in had depended just as often on the charity of a new acquaintance as it had on the amount of money in his pocket. He had tended to avoid permanent residences since word got round in certain parts of the state that he tended to keep rented properties in - apparently landlords objected to dangerous chemicals being stored in boiler cupboards. When he had tried to explain - on numerous occasions - that he barely used them anyway, that 'hard' science was more a hobby than anything else, he was often perplexed to find little understanding forthcoming.

It would probably be wise to try and find a place to sleep, at least. The streets were a much more uncomfortable place to lay your head down than some people would have you believe, and he didn't fancy the look of many of the local establishments. In a couple of days, he would take a look around what local apartments were on offer, or even if the Institute would allow him an office with room for a bed in it above the research lab. He liked to be close to his work at all times, so that if inspiration suddenly struck in the dead of night, as it so often seemed annoyingly predisposed to, he could start at a moments notice.

For now, James cast his eyes around the room, seeking inspiration, or preferably a friendly, compassionate local with a bed or floor to spare and a predilection for spotting random strangers in bars and offering them temporary lodgings. OK, maybe it was preferably a sexually repressed, scornful woman who would publicly scoff at his request of boarding, only to allow him to make furious, desperate love to her each night in exchange for staying for a few days, but right now was not the time to be choosy.

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri missed pubs. Perhaps that was a strange thing to say, especially considering that she hadn’t even really been able to go to them when she had still been in Ireland. Well, that wasn’t really true. Everyone could go to pubs. She just hadn’t been able to participate in the drinking. But that had been fine by her. Pubs had been just a place to hang out: kind of like diners, but without the salty chips. Here, alcohol was… so formal. It was those drinking laws that did it. And prohibition. Because alcohol had once been considered a bad thing in the American society, they felt they had to treat it as something special. So you had to go have a drink with your coworkers. Meet someone for a drink. It wasn’t “let’s go meet in a pub” where you would meet for a meal and have some beer on the side. It was just one of many ways that American society bothered her.

But she didn’t feel like going back, either. Originally it had just been out of stubbornness. She’d married an American man and had gotten her American citizenship. She’d made her bed, and she was going to lie in it, and damn anyone who thought otherwise. But later, it had changed into the simple fact that she did, in spite of all her complaints, enjoy it there. She liked Hammel, and she liked teaching math there. So in the States she would stay.

In spite of the lousy pubs. Or bars.

She slipped in the door and took a look around. Not particularly crowded tonight, and not loud. That was a disappointment. She liked loud places. She liked the feeling of the masses of humanity crowding in, because she enjoyed the company, and she had precious little of that in her personal life. Sometimes, Kateri wondered if it would have been better if she had had kids. She missed noise, people running around, and having lots of things to do. But then she remembered her impatience and her temper, and acknowledged that it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. Besides, kids needed two parents in order to have someone to complain about the other to. It was how the world worked. Still, she hadn’t come here for the noise or for someone to talk to, she reminded herself. She had come for the wine. She usually stopped by a store to pick up a bottle or some fancy restaurant, but she’d forgotten, and had just wanted to savor one glass before she had to return to grade a bunch of math homework. She nearly sighed at the thought. Ah, papers. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could just avoid them? She approached the bar, flashed the bartender a friendly smile, then asked for a red wine of his choice, price not an issue, in her best American accent. She was tired of getting asked about her Irish one, and besides, anything to give her students less of an excuse for not understanding her was a good way to go. If she said that she was Irish and spoke too quickly, some of them were bound to say that they hadn’t done their homework because they hadn’t understood what she was saying. She glanced around the bar when the man had left, and her eyes rested on a rather scruffy figure. He didn’t look so good, and he seemed to have a lot of…suitcases? Huh. She took another look around the room, then shrugged to herself. Well, she’d wanted company. And she wasn’t afraid of a sad story. So she took her glass of wine from the bartender when he offered it to her, said her thanks, then took it over to meet this...interesting fellow.

“Wife kick you out?” she asked with a slight smile. It was meant to be a joke. “Mind if I take this seat? I’m Kateri Rivera, by the way. Friends call me Kat.”

[James Martin]

(OOC: James has literally just arrived at Hammel, and is just about to start working there, so Kateri wouldn't recognise/know him, but as the dialogue doesn't reference this I'll just ignore the bit about knowing him, if that's ok? )

The problem with the world, James decided through the comforting numbness of the meds kicking in, wasn't that people were inherently bad. Yes, some may have been 'born' evil, or whatever phraseology you wanted to apply to it but the real problem, the crux of the issue, was that too many bloody people were born good.

Now passive 'goodness', the kind where you maybe donate money to charity, now and then give a bit of money to a beggar on the street, that was alright. Active goodness, on the other hand, was a complete nightmare. The kind of people who fell into this category were the people who started up charities for any ridiculous cause they saw fit, diluting the charity market with their Field Mouse Sanctuaries and Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Inanimate Objects. They were the ones who would wake up the tramp who had spent hours trying to get to sleep against the cold to ask him his life story and offer him their packet of Oreos.

James let out a deep, disenchanted sigh as he looked around the room once more. Life, life, life...

A movement towards him caught his eye, although it took several second for his brain to register this fact, and she was almost upon him before he summoned up the capability to turn to face her.

James laughed with a wry smile at the allusion to the suitcases.

"Nothing as exciting, I'm sorry to admit. I've just arrived here, hence the luggage. I'm James, James Martin, please do sit."

James' grin broadened as he noticed the wine in Kateri's - the name seemed too elegant to waste it - hand. Anyone who chose a real drink over the compendium of sweeteners and bright colours lining the shelves of most places was made of the right stuff, he felt. Plus, the fact that she saw no issue with coming out to a pub on her own simply to have a drink was a big tick against her name. For some reason, over here the pub was a big thing, to be undertaken only on special occasions or in large packs. This girl seemed to understand.

I attended the school here when I was younger, and I've come back to carry on with some research I've been doing. I intended to head on up there to enquire about temporary lodgings, but I seem to have found myself waylaid, albeit somewhat pleasantly; unfortunately, unless work ethics have changed dramatically since I was last here, I'm guessing I've missed office hours."

[Kateri Rivera]

((I'm not doing so well so far with this.xD Sorry 'bout that. I'll go back to my post and fix it....))

Just arrived here? And from England from the sound of it. Her mother, a loyal Irishwoman, probably wouldn’t have been happy to talk to him, but for Kateri, at least it was a small taste of home, and she could use anything that she could get on most days. But he’d offered her a seat, and she returned his smile, nodded, and settled down in the seat that she’d originally planned on taking. Once seated, she leaned back in her seat and tilted her head to the side. Well, this wasn’t what she’d originally planned for an evening, but she didn’t really mind it all that much. Besides, this was a lot better than grading papers.

“Oh, shame.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and chuckled, giving the wine glass an experimental swirl before lifting it to her lips to take a sip. “And I was getting ready for a very good story. But it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Martin. Or, if you’re a researcher, should it be Doctor?” She sometimes wondered if she should have gone for school for longer, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t wanted to go for those extra years. She’d never been very tolerant while in school anyways. Sometimes she just had to wonder what had made her become a teacher. And her only conclusion was that only bad students could become teachers, because the good students didn’t know a thing about what students were really like and could get up to.

“But welcome back to Pilot Ridge, I suppose.” He hadn’t gone to the Swiss school? Hm. She wondered what had happened to bring that result around. Then again, Hammel had an awfully good reputation. And here he was, back for more.

“You might be able to find a hotel, or a motel,” she suggested. Although if he was here for a job… well, then, that might not work so well after all. Maybe he didn’t have money. “But then again, it is a small town… huh. Well, you seem to be in a bit of a bind. You said you went to school here—do you remember anyone that you might be able to call? I have a phone. I might even know the numbers. I’m a teacher at Hammel, as it happens.” She smiled at him. And it wasn’t that late. She’d bet that anyone he wanted to call was probably still awake, unless they were completely boring and had no life… as she did. Now wasn’t that a sad thought.

[James Martin]

James let out a hollow laugh. Even if he had felt inclined to try and contact anyone who might still be at Hammel, chances were that the meeting wouldn't be particularly amicable.

"I'm afraid I didn't make an awful lot of friends last time I was here," James replied, inwardly wondering just who was still here, "and the hotels round here will probably suffer from the same crystal clear memory. My living area tends to be somewhat...explosive."

Sitting forward in his chair, James gave Kateri a more thorough appraisal. She was pretty, in a slightly tomboyish kind of way, although rather than shroud herself behind the boyishness, she embraced it and wore it well. Very well. She exuded what seemed like a natural confidence - though of course, being a teacher at the Institute this was pretty much a given - but James couldn't place her accent. It seemed to have American in it, yet come from no one part of the States. Underneath was something more musical, something that reminded him of home. What was it?

"I didn't stick around long enough to become a doctor. Hammel and I shared the view that my natural abilities made any further qualifications pretty redundant when it came to my area of research; you don't need a piece of paper to coax a memory out of something or someone. That, and I think they were pretty glad to be rid of me.

I know it's a very 'studenty' question to ask, but what is your ability? Are you a powers teacher or standard subject?"

[Kateri Rivera]

Ah, hotels. When Kateri hadn’t had her current level of control, she’d had a few problems with them herself. That was one problem with being a meta-human. Her father had often quipped wryly that they were every hotel manager’s worse nightmare, second only to the stereotypical American rock star that certain hotels in Hollywood still loved to talk about.

“I see,” she said. No friends at all? Well, no one she knew could claim to have a good high school experience. “Hm.” She leaned back again, noting his observance with a slightly lifted brow and a wry quirk to her mouth. She was tempted to ask “like what you see?” but she wasn’t quite sure that might have been the best idea. The man had said he was looking for a place to stay, after all. He might take it as the wrong sort of invitation, and although she liked him so far, she didn’t want it to go down that route right now.

“I’m a weather manipulator, actually.” Now she was grinning. She’d always been fond of her power, even when she hadn’t been very good at using it. “But not a strong one. I’m a math teacher. But don’t let that scare you away—I swear, I don’t do math in my spare time.”

Well, not often.

“My turn, I guess.” She set the wine glass down and tilted her head to the side to study him. “Researcher, you said, and natural abilities…retrocognition, yeah?” That was a tough one, from what she’d heard. At least her powers didn’t come with anything worse than a headache (unless she really pushed herself). “What made you decide to come back to Hammel?”

[James Martin]

James had always been fascinated by the more 'visible' abilities, and weather manipulation was definitely that. How strong was 'not strong'? Most people past student age tended not to put a huge stock in their powers, and thus didn't feel the need to brag about them or over-exaggerate them. Maybe Kateri was just being polite?

"Retrocognition is my thing, yeah. Since I left Hammel, I've spent my time researching the History of Meta-Humanity. Problem is, there's countless stories floating around of aliens or mutants, and very rarely any factual basis to back them up. What's worse, the human mind is extremely malleable, memories can be foggy or even comprised only of half-truths and imaginings. Objects are much more definite, if limited.

There's two main tricks to learn with retrocognition once you've learnt how to use your power at will instead of involuntarily; first you have to learn to choose what you remember, and where you remember it. If you think of the brain like a computer's hard drive, each time you use the power, then you overwrite some of the files on it. Without training, it's completely random, hence I can remember barely anything about my childhood, such was the sudden onset of my powers. Now, I can pick and choose which memories to 'overwrite'. Makes remembering who you are a whole lot easier, believe me. The second trick is clearing away the fog and seeing through false memories. That takes a long time, the only way to do it is with experience.[/color]

James hesitated. It was unusual for him to so readily talk about the intricacies of retrocognition, in particular the facets relating to the problems he had. Thankfully, her question allowed him to shift the subject.

"The truth is, I've come to Hammel because I'm at a dead end. Have been more or less since I left, so it's not exactly a new thing. So far, I'm pretty sure that Meta-Humans have existed since the time of the Renaissance, some guy called Vincenzo Fiorillo in Italy used illusion to go and steal a load of priceless art. Beyond that, it gets harder to source objects to extract memories from. Most of my time is spent pouring through historical accounts, looking for clues, references to Meta-Humanity. I'm here because of the high meta potential of this place. Some of the odds and ends I remember being stored here have massive scope for holding memories. Hammel is going to act as my new base for research, not that I intend to go digging around in muddy ruins any more. Besides, no offence to the natives, but this continent has very little in terms of history, so I'm not expecting anything ground breaking to pop up. The school, though...who knows what's in storage? It's one of the first things I'll be asking, let's put it that way.

So what brought you to teach here? Were you a student here?"[/color]

[Kateri Rivera]

Huh. She hadn’t been expecting a long talk about retrocognition. She wouldn’t say she was complaining, because she wasn’t. She’d always been curious about other powers, and retrocognition did indeed sound, as she’d originally guessed, like one of the trickier ones. The way he casually dropped statements like the fact that he could hardly remember anything about his childhood, pretty much confirmed it. Poor man. Kateri could think of a couple of memories she wanted to get rid of, but her childhood wouldn’t have been one of them. Those memories were part of what shaped an individual. What was it like to live without them? But his topic of his research, she’d admit, was pretty amazing as well. History of meta-humans? And he was using his power to do that? Pretty impressive. Her father would have liked it. He’d always been fond of anything having to do with history, especially of meta-humans. It had always been a subject he’d been obsessed about, and one that his wife and children had usually laughed at him for.

“No offense taken,” she told him. “Besides, I’m not a native, so I completely agree with you. There IS no history here. It’s very, very sad to know it.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, then finished her wine glass and set it back down. “Still, that sounds…fascinating, actually. I’ve always wondered how long meta-humans have been around. My father used to say that weather manipulation has been in our family for centuries, but I never believed him. Possibly because he also insisted we used to be members of Spanish nobility.” She smiled at the thought. “You’ll have to tell me how your research goes, because at the very least, you definitely have my interest. I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”

And now the topic had switched back to her. Shame. She’d been having much more fun listening to him.

“I wasn’t,” she told him. “I went to Kocher. But I moved here when I was eighteen, and got the job here a couple of years ago. I thought it might be nice to be around abnormal people again. No one else gets why it suddenly gets cloudy when they irritate you.” He’d said he couldn’t remember his childhood, right? So then he wouldn’t know why he had come to Hammel instead of Kocher. Better to avoid the issue. “So, like you, I’m from the other side of the pond. Here’s to happy coincidences.” She would have toasted him, but she had already finished her wine and didn’t feel inclined to get another one, so she bowed instead—awkwardly, as she was still sitting down. When she straightened, she was grinning again.

“All right—back to the housing trouble. You said you don’t think you’d know anyone, and don’t think the hotels would take you in. What do you plan to do? It seems strange for a researcher to sleep outside on a park bench, even here.”

[James Martin]

James found himself relaxing more and more. Kateri seemed a breath of fresh air from most of the political, agenda-pushing metas that he remembered being the mainstay of Hammel. He did, however, make a mental note to check up on rumours of unusual events in and around the Spanish monarchy over the last few hundred years.

"I wouldn't say there's no history here, it's just not the kind of history that I'm looking for. The rest of the world has been mapped by historians, but this continent is virtually unknown past a few hundred years ago. There's an energy here, you can feel it in the trees, the rocks. They all have memories, albeit simple. There's not many places in the world that you can find a tree with as many memories as they have here."

James smiled inwardly. He wasn't that into the theory of retrocognition, but from what he had gathered it was almost as if the relatively sparse population of North America up until a few hundred years ago was the reason for it's natural objects to be so...charged. People, and the things they built, acted like big energy holes, sucking meta potential in, leaving little for natural objects. Maybe it was because only humans could develop meta powers that they had this effect upon the meta-accessed memories of things, but at any rate an old tree in California could sometimes hold just as much memory as an ancient artifact from Europe. Of course, all a tree's memory would likely contain was growth, seasons, weather, the occasional passing of a woodland creature. Humanity, whilst a pain, was much more useful.

Her stiff bow made him grin, as did the fact that she seemed to immediately see the funny side of it. The fact that she thought a researcher sleeping on a park bench was unusual...Well, admittedly his methods were somewhat different to others, so he'd give her that one. Best not to give her the 'sexually repressed' line though, she seemed a bit too, well, nice for that, although a little voice insidiously remarked that certainly a Math teacher would be fond of...He scolded himself inwardly. Letting his mind go like that had admittedly served him well on occasion, yet he sensed this would probably - he was surprised to find, to his slight disappointment - not turn out to be one of them. Giving his head a little shake to clear the growing mist of the meds, and also to try and quiet his own subconscious, he continued.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? I've had the pleasure of examining a few benches up close in my time, but it's not something I'd recommend."[/color] At times, he found himself hating being English. It was considered highly rude to just ask for something, instead you had to circle around a concept suggestively, making forced laughs at half-joking suggestions.

"I can sometimes find somebody about a place who doesn't mind letting a complete stranger occupy a small corner of a room for a night or two." Smooth, he thought. I make it sound like I'm a bloody stray cat or something. "I guess most people figure that researchers don't really fit the whole scary pervert bill;" he crashed on, adding 'scary pervert' to the list of terrifying images that was probably building in Kateri's mind, "I'm heading up to the school to see about getting an office with room for a bed in it tomorrow anyway,"[/color] feeling this needed explanation, he continued, "I like to be able to jump straight out of bed and into the lab when inspiration strikes."[/color] So, scary stray cat pervert with a tendency to roam around naked in the middle of the night it was, then.

[Kateri Rivera]

Huh. Now that was an angle to history she’d never heard before. But he was the one with the gift to look into history, right? She supposed he would know more about it than she would, just like she would guess she had a different view of weather patterns than he did. It was the gift of the meta: you got a whole new perspective on the world built right in to your genes.

Kateri would have said that she liked directness. She wasn’t really the kind of woman who tended to beat around the bushes, unless she thought her conversation partner was the shy type. That was more of an American trait, she knew, but she happened to like being direct. It saved so much time. However, there were some things to be said for circling around the issue. For example, it happened to be very funny. She listened with growing bemusement as the man described his living situations, including the not-so-subtle hint of “somebody” helping him find a room. She had thought it might come up as soon as he had said he couldn’t think of a place to stay. Had been betting on it, in fact. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t sure about it yet. Yes, he seemed nice enough, and he was going to work at Hammel, but…huh. There was always the traditional men and women problem, for starters. Yes, he wasn’t bad looking and she’d always liked foreign accents (or home accents, at this point), but there was something… off about him. And for another, she really didn’t know much about him. How did she know he wasn’t… how had he put it… a “scary pervert”? He’d also defined himself as being hard on his living arrangements and having no friends. Kateri wondered if he realized just how spectacularly bad of a picture he was giving her, and had to hide a grin behind her hand at the thought. Probably did, poor sod.

Well, did any of it matter in the end? Worst case, she could zap him, though she didn’t tend to share that fact with most. He hadn’t done anything wrong and besides: it tended to scare all the boys away. And she did have a spare room.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, once she was relatively sure that the man had stopped his pointed but still slightly confused ramblings. She was smiling again. She couldn’t help it. “You’re a guy who describes himself as not having many friends, has been kicked out of hotels, is restless during the night and might or might not fit the ‘scary pervert bill.’” She chuckled slightly. “The one perk to the whole thing is that you probably wouldn’t stay long, is that what you’re saying? I think you’re selling yourself short. You don’t seem like you’d be that bad of company.” After all, he'd be entertaining, if nothing else. “And now, I think, you’re hoping for an offer of a couch or, hopefully, a bed?” She shook her head. “You need to work on your persuasion skills, James. Another woman probably would have run off screaming at that. Lucky for you, it just makes me realize that you really aren’t a pervert. Perverts always have much more convincing arguments. So.” She leaned forward slightly. “What exactly do you do to rooms that got you kicked out of so many hotels? And how do you feel about early mornings?”

[James Martin]

James grimaced. Somehow, it would have been easier to meet somebody of questionable personality whom he could have, as she put it, 'sold' himself to simply by lying. However, he found it hard to lie to people who seemed good on the inside. Besides, Kateri seemed very sharp, and probably would not take kindly if he tried to skip around the reasons.

"OK, the hotels...usually I got kicked out for either storing research chemicals in my room, or for using said chemicals in the en-suites. Admittedly, I am only an amateur scientist, a hobbyist if you will, but as I try to tell them it is extremely rare for me to cause any lasting damage. The fact that I didn't have space in my luggage to bring any now is a moot point, as far as they are concerned. I guess certain things just cling to the memory more than others."

James hesitated. What could he bring in terms of 'company'? For some reason, offering that he could have a dig around inside your memory to find where you had left your car keys wasn't very welcome, although he had helped a few people value paintings and whatnot in his time. Company, company, company.

"Erm...I'm a good listener?" He offered lamely. Well, that was true, even if it depended entirely on if he felt the person was a good talker. "I'm also decent with cats..." DAMN nice people. He really could do without this honesty lark, because frankly, he sucked at life. Oh well, just go for it.

"In all honesty I don't have an awful lot else to offer, apart from knowing some really good wines. I could say that you won't find me dull, and I can get by without the whole couch thing, I wasn't joking when I said a corner of a room would suit me fine. As I'm going to be working at Hammel, and likely seeing you quite often, then I'd be a fool to wreck the place, and the fact that you seem really nice in a wouldkickmyarseifyougotangry kinda way basically guarantees that I will behave. Oh, and if you needed any further security, then I'm led to believe that the human body is a very good conductor, and that retrocognition has absolutely zero potential when it comes to resisting electric shocks."

James felt an involuntary shudder course through him, knowing all too well that he was only human. Sometimes, certain factions within meta-humanity had felt he was digging too deep, and had taken 'steps' to ensure that he stopped working in their respective patches. Say what you like about everyone being born equal, but when it came to meta powers, some people didn't care if you had no more defence than a normal human.

Mentally shaking himself out of it, James' smile returned and he came back to the conversation at hand.

"Early mornings I can do, I've learnt not to be fussy when the alternative is an early morning on a bench."

[Kateri Rivera]

Well, he was honest. And she was beginning to doubt that there was any danger in him… at all. Except to himself. But what researcher wasn’t of a danger to his own person? She certainly didn’t know of any. To her, they all seemed equally detached, distant, and liable to injury because they didn’t have an ounce of common sense. But that wasn’t fair. Her own brother and mother were researchers.

Actually, that helped out her point. Still, he seemed nice enough, he was going to be a researcher at Hammel, and it wasn’t as if she had any reason to say no. She had a couch. Hell, she even had a spare bedroom. And it was only when he was nervously trying to ask for a favor that he seemed to chatter. Besides, the company might be nice for a bit, even if it was only a man who tended to seem a little, well…scatter-brained. But she’d grown up with that.

“I knew the conductor part,” she told him. “Comes with the power, I guess. But that’s not reassuring…here. I promise you, shocking you would probably be the last thing I did if you tried anything.”

And that, she reminded herself, was just being mean, because that particular statement wasn’t going to help him feel more comfortable at all. She didn’t want to scare the guy… okay, maybe she did, just to make her point clear. But not that much.

“Kidding,” she added. “Look, knowing good wines gives you some credit in my book. You wouldn’t believe the dates I’ve had who don’t know a thing about it. Cats and listening you don’t have to worry about. I don’t have any pets, and I prefer listening anyways.” She eyed him for a moment longer, then smiled. “Company might be nice for a while. I’ve been on my own for nine years now—besides, then I have someone to listen to me as I mutter complaints about students and their inability to do a math problem correctly. Stay as long as you need. And mornings won’t be a concern: the only reason I bring it up is because I hate early mornings, and so I tend to make a bit of a racket when I first get up, which is fairly early. You can catch a ride to the Institute with me then, or you can come along later if you have other things to do. Does that sound fair?” Not like he’d be a hassle. They’d be working in the same place anyways, and Kateri knew her living quarters weren’t exactly easy to mess up…well, that was, they couldn’t get much messier than they already were. She didn’t have enough stuff, and neither did he. “And that saves you from getting frostbite from sleeping on a park bench. I think I’d feel bad if I made you do that.”

[James Martin]

"That seems like a fair deal to me." James grinned. As tempting - extremely tempting, in fact - as the offer to stay 'as long as he needed' was, he made a mental note to go and ask about an office first thing the next day. Once that was sorted, then he could see about getting all of his usual office 'adornments' in.

"Nine years? I guess I could say I know how you feel. There's always people when you're out and about on the job, but rarely is there time to get to know them at all. It'll be nice to be mainly stationary for a bit."

Definitely nice. He was positively itching to get to work, he swore he was on the verge of a major breakthrough with regards the optimum ignition temperature for acidified potassium dichromate...no, James. Real work. Like getting all of your papers filed. Fun. Reality kicking in, James stole a glance at the clock. Ouch.

"Not to put it too suggestively, but it's getting late, so how about I grab a few of the more choice bottles from here for safe-keeping and we check out the Math teacher pad?"

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri shrugged. She had papers to work on anyways, and she knew that she had lingered here for just a little too long in any case. She’d just been planning to get a bit of wine, not to stay, chat, or even to get someone who would stay in her apartment with her. Actually, she hadn’t expected that last result at all. She glanced at the clock, winced herself, then waved a hand a bit dismissively and moved on, getting to her feet. “Math teacher pad? I like that. It’s just a flat, though. Nothing special, and really quite dull. But if you want, have at it.” She offered him a smile and gestured to the bar, then put some money on the table as a tip and patted down her pockets, making sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. So far, it seemed good. Although she could never tell until it was too late. Such was the way of the world, she guessed. She twisted her head to look back at him, and once he was sure he was ready, picked up one of the suitcases to help and carried them out to the car. And then, she reflected, it was back to work. Well, it had been nice while it had lasted…

((Shall I move it to Kat’s flat now? Not really familiar with how this works for boards…))

[James Martin]

OOC: That would be cool, when you've started the new thread I'll add the link to this post. Sorry for slow reply.)


James and Kateri continue in It's Not Much