strangetrip | Check-In Day: Around the Inn

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Check-In Day: Around the Inn

Finished with self-imposed paperwork and emergency planning for the week, Regina permitted herself a leisurely ride on this absolutely gorgeous spring day. After a good gallop, Grace was content to walk, cropping at dried scrub and new shoots when Regina gave her rein. Regina steered the mare gently toward the west; she could teleport, of course, but she appreciated the quiet of riding toward the beach. She found, in the wake of Henry's Christmas visit, she more often craved the scent of the salt air and ocean breezes. Of course, the Pacific never quite smelled like the Atlantic, always warmer and less bracing somehow, but it soothed the wildness in her just the same.

Back at the Inn, Kitty busied herself with stocking the pool bar and generally setting up for the warmer seasons. The pool had been skimmed of winter detritus and chlorinated by the staff-spectre she rarely if ever saw, and there were fresh towels set out like a proper resort. Since the choice of music was hers, the air around the bar filled with dance beats, Afro-Caribbean today, and Kitty moved right into it. She didn't usually dance at work, but she felt bright today and maybe Lara would come down and work with her and they could goof around Cocktail style.

Sam passed through the Copper Cafe in search of a cup of coffee and a salad, or one of the two gorgeous women he'd somehow wound up involved with. His brow scrunched like a caterpillar hurrying away from a predator while he semi-consciously outpaced thoughts about babies and brothers, and possibly babies and girlfriends. His mild scowl wasn't helped by the pack of spirits trailing him and chatting at him about the lives of his family members. He'd asked them not to gossip about people he wasn't close with, but as a consequence, they talked rapidly and often about River's most recent oddness or his mother and Hathaway acting like...well, like him and Molly and Bo, and no thanks. Ditto on Dean and Jane. For all that he looked a little bothered, there wasn't anything menacing or aggressive about it. If anything, the slight tilt of his head as he strolled through the Inn looked thoughtful, as though he listened to something somewhat distant.

Lillith had come to a bit of a routine for arrival days, and around noon, she sat for tea with River Song. They spoke little, and it was difficult to tell whether the women even liked each other. But for all that, Lillith was content with the ritual. If Curnen sang, she would go out to the lawn next and listen. In fact, on such a sunny day, she would undoubtedly flop on the lawn with a sketchbook and a practice notebook, letting her mind float between image and spellcraft as it would. Out here, she would quickly veil herself at the approach of anyone new, but she often was distracted enough that they might catch her in her true form with her all unaware.

Around them, the Inn hummed and buzzed with the happy energy of winter giving way to spring. The most patient and subtle would undoubtedly note the undercurrents of tension, fear, frustration, and boredom that built up over time. But for day, at least so far as this four were aware, the worst of it had been suspended, in favor of enjoying warm sun and the company of friends.

[OOC: GP. It's a gorgeous day. Come and play! All four of mine can be available. Ping me if you're inspired to tag. <3 Welcome, Carol, Toby, and Number Five!]

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“AI? Nice. Right up until she snaps and starts killing organics, I mean.” The Academy had had a couple of bad AI robot missions. “And if either of you had facial rec on me, one of us would probably already be dead.” The only ones who would were the Commission, after all, and Five wasn’t naive enough to think that the successful completion of the apocalypse would have ended their contract on him.

"Hey, break into my room and toss my shit everywhere all you like, but you don't insult the lady." Sufficiently un-asleep, Tony swung his legs lazily over the side of his couch and smoothed his loose brown mop back.

“Pretty sure I’m doing all of the above, sport.” Not that it was an insult: it probably took creativity and skill to killl without having a body, Five thought. He held up one of the pieces of paper with what looked like a mathematical proof for a limerick, somehow. A filthy one. “Really?”

"Alright, I'm too tired for this." Tony rubbed at his eyes. "Your attitude says provocateur but your appearance says Leave It to Beaver.'

Edited 2019-03-19 21:56 (UTC)

“How confusing for you.” Five dropped the limerick and shifted a sweatshirt to get at other papers underneath it. So far it looked like he’d already found and taken the interesting things, but allegedly hope sprung eternal. “You could always ignore me.”

"Sounds like a bad plan." Tony rose, rubbing at the stiff muscles of his neck. "Not sure what a preteen wants with my ramblings on quantum decoherence."

“Thirteen is a teen, asshole.” Fifty-eight wasn’t, but thus far Five had successfully kept that to himself. It wasn’t like anyone would believe him anyway, why waste the time? “This one happens to be a fan of comedy.” Actually, the ‘ramblings’ were pretty good, all things considered. If Five hadn’t spent so much time neck-deep in actual mechanics as opposed to theoretical, they’d be genius.

"My bad. Preteen-and-a-half." Tony huffed with a faint breath of bemused laughter. "Let me guess. You're new. Didn't break into my room with force--don't say you can make yourself really small. Smaller."

“Fine. I won’t tell you that.” Why would he? Five swung off the bed, jumped across the room between one step and the next, dropped the empty juice box in a trash bin, then jumped to look at the conspiracy board again.

Before Tony could get another lick in, the mystery lad was across the room. Clarice sprung to mind, but she wasn’t one to shapeshifter or infiltrate bedrooms willy-nilly. Regardless, the sight was enough to kick his brain into full alertness.

“Quantum entanglement tomfoolery.” That answered that question.

Edited 2019-03-20 05:43 (UTC)

“Pffft. No.” The board was no clearer after going through the man’s notes than it had been before. “I won’t lie, a few aspects of entanglement can be pretty descriptive at some points.” time as a function of entanglement was a big one, “but you might’ve noticed I’m a bit bigger than a particle, and I don’t need prior contact. There might be a case for me being entangled with everything in multiple universes - multiple now, anyway - but then again, I wouldn’t call myself an inseparable whole with multiple universes. And if the words ‘quantum teleportation’ are about to march across your brain pan, they can march right back out again. That’s about transportation of information, not physical presence.” As with entanglement, there were aspects, but it wasn’t the whole.

Despite his generally dismissive countenance, Tony was intrigued by the boy’s explanation. It the most technical insight beyond ‘magic’ he’s gotten thus far. ‘Not doing him any favors here. He’s probably gotten the rundown already.’ Tony thought, accepting that this stranger was a fresh face and not another angry hallucination or trickery.

“The transfer of information using quantum systems is one element of quantum teleportation. The second is classical information at point B to complete the teleportation. Then again, that’s assuming we’re obeying special relativity and this model implies the whole disintegration-recreation cloning debate that everyone loves to create thought experiments around.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna make a guess on a less obtuse subject. Superpowers?”

“Yeah, superpowers. Way to call out the obvious. And point B in your models is the one that requires prior contact to establish current or former entanglement. Which again, I don’t need, along with the cloning bullshit. It’s closer in nature to a tesseract. Not like the hypercube, more like the one in that kids’ book.” The old man had thought it would get Five to think. It had mostly gotten him to think the old man was full of shit. Not that he had been as full of it in the end as Five had thought. “For spatial jumps, anyway. Time travel’s a whole other thing.” Much more quantum theory compliant at the bedrock level, for one thing.

“For all I know you have an enchanted fig in your pocket doing the work for you.” Tony rubbed at his temple, a pang of pain hitting from the mere mention of a tesseract. No mas. “I’m also gonna go out on a limb and say you’re no kid.”

“Yeah? Look at me.” Five pointed in the general direction of his shorts and knee socks pulled all the way up. “You think a grown man dresses like this?” He hadn’t had a choice, apart from a ruined too-big suit, the only clothes available that would fit were his old Academy uniforms. But this guy didn’t need to know that.

Tony gestured at WALL-E to deliver a ginger ale to put the sickly feeling in his stomach to rest. “You’d be surprised. And you smell like you’ve consumed enough coffee to kickstart a sloth. And if you’re as young as you look then I’m forced into the responsible adult position and lectures about stimulants are involved and I’d love to avoid that.”

Five stared at him for a few seconds, remembering that talk with Hazel about life post-apocalypse. What would you have done if you hadn’t left home and gotten mixed up with the Commission? He’d guessed ‘grow up into an emotionally stunted man child like everybody else.’ The reply had been So do that, grow up.

It was hard to grow up at fifty-eight, but it was what teenagers were supposed to do. And in this place at least, April 1st would come and go and the world wouldn’t end.

He shook his head. “It’s complicated. I’m sticking with thirteen for now.”

"...Alright." Damage was the word that came to mind, though he had more tact than to say it. Everyone had chinks in their armor, but not everyone wore the face of a child. And for Tony, even knowing the trick wasn't enough to negate the effects.

"Well, me llamo Tony. Tony Stark." He relented, approaching the bed to toss the papers into a somewhat-orderly mess onto the nightstand.

“Number Five. Just Five, if you’re going to abbreviate.” He wouldn’t put it past this Tony to find some version of ‘Number’ if not directed otherwise.

"Five." Tony slowly nibbled his bottom lip as he lowered the can, tasting remnant ginger still there. He glanced over his shoulder doubtfully and idly shuffled a new stack of notes.

“Yup.” Five removed one of the papers that he’d folded into his composition book and used the book as a hard surface to scrawl a few additional notations, then passed the paper back. Establishing value was a good early step when blending into a new period. “Let’s just say my old man was a no-nonsense type.”

Tony accepted the paper with a quick glance towards the additional remarks, just long enough to note they were something to chew on. Remembering he didn't have a breast pocket, the nanites composing his clothing formed into a spring jacket bearing one so he could tuck it inside.

Fathers--the visit from his own dad had left him something similar. A message from the literal beyond, scrawled on a napkin. Those were feelings he didn't need to remember just then.

"Just Five."

“Number Five. Yes.” The siblings had shorthanded to just the numbers amongst themselves, but Sir Reginald had always used full names. Even after Mom had started handing out real names. “What’s it to you?”

'Uncomfortable. I'll go with uncomfortable.' "Can I sell you on Quin?"

“Why?” Five knew why, he just wanted to see if the man would actually say ‘I don’t like your name, it’s not normal, so you should change it.’

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