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Never Lose Your Hat!

For a time, Ivy had been nearly consumed by a sort smug pride -- and then even moreso by a grotesque excitement (the search for a live body could mean many things to a Spark, especially when that Spark was already missing some important limbs herself) -- but all of that, along with the deeper levels of thought, with the mild concern over her livelihood, and her frustrations with how the situation seemed to have progressed beyond 'fun and exciting' and into 'too long and taxing' at the very least; all of it was soon outshone entirely by Ludd's last words.

There was no keeping the shock and confusion from Ivy's face as she fell from the Madness place just as quickly as she'd entered it. Ivy the Spark was gone, replaced by Ivy, the utterly baffled girl.

"Did you say...St. Mayhew?" she repeated dumbly before she could stop herself. "Agnes...?" The given name wasn't familiar, but the surname...the same one emblazoned on a thin silver disk with a strange symbol beneath...the surname she'd been found with when the Bartch's had adopted her, taken her home squalling to wake the dead, covered in a thick layer of inexplicably green mud...the surname she knew. She'd kept it, at Mama Petra's insistence, though she'd not been so keen in her early days. Her name, like her dark hair and gray-green eyes, so different from the blonde-haired, blue-eyed siblings she'd adopted as her own, was one of several things to separate her from her new family, a fact made all the more painful by the fact that she could not remember the one that had abandoned her.

"Uh..." said Ivy, now finally turning to Jötz, her expression somewhere between Did you hear that? and HELP ME!. She was vaguely aware she was losing whatever tenuous hold on the situation she'd managed, but she wasn't quite sure how to stop that. Her mind was still in a whir, only this time, there were no far-fetched solutions, no water-powered light cannons, or steam-driven wolf clanks. There were only questions. Where, when, how, who?

Why?

"Um..." Ivy said again, slowly turning back to Ludd as she struggled to come up with at least a temporary solution. She needed answers from him, yes, but they would amount to nothing without the right questions. And if her name gave her the leverage she thought it might -- and that leverage could prove beyond valuable -- she couldn't afford to show her hand just yet.

But what a hand to hide!

"I...will consult with my body guard," Ivy stammered eventually. "The plan is...agreeable," she added, trying to sound reluctant, and succeeding only in sounding a little congested. "But we...erm...we are going to sort out the...uh...details. Yes. Details. Come, minion!"

The Last Kings of Orion

Park said nothing for a moment, allowing Hob's unfortunate, though perhaps not unwarranted departure to wash over him. It was something he did almost naturally now, his first and and most hard-earned skill, and either the reason or a perhaps an early side effect of his eventual profession. He had been young, very young, just three years old in fact, when he'd learned he was especially sensitive to the emotions of others. His older sister, Sun-Hi, had burned herself serving him his traditional bowl of word or seaweed soup. The burn had not been serious, but their overbearing mother had been concerned, and, within minutes, Park had found himself too distraught to eat. He was not upset, nor angry at the slight disruption in the festivities. It seemed only that he could not bear to step away too long from his sister or mother, had in fact spent most of the day in their arms, just watching, as if waiting for something worse to happen.

As he grew older, he was more able to temper his odd reactions to the more volatile expressions of emotion around him, but it wasn't until he was in his early teens that he learned how to process these feelings, how to quietly recall that was not his anger, not his affection or depression. Slowly, he began to reacclimatize to his friends without being all but forced to take on the timbre of any room he walked into. And once he mastered that, he began to master the art of teaching others the same. He craved it, he realized, and it seem to help as much as it hurt, the wild and boundless diversity of human emotion. And all at once, he could not imagine himself to be without it.

Forty years ago, Hob's disappearance might have left a sour taste in his mouth, but whatever remained in the NI-tech's absence was quickly soothed by the brief but bright moment passing between Abby and Gavin. Park watched, quietly removed, as was his tendency in moments like these, and let himself remember that while his family, his home, his livelihood had been left behind...there was still beauty to be found, often in the shadow of the ugliness before it.

So, there was simply no way to reject Abby's offer, however selfish it might have been to stay. Park chuckled quietly at Gavin's words, then fell instep alongside the doctor and their First Sergeant. And when Gavin asked his question, while Park's smile faded ever so slightly, the quiet agony that would have swept over him in his childhood years seemed content to rumble a low warning at the back of his mind.

"Nothing more than what I'm sure you've already seen," Park answered evenly, with a quick glance at Abby. "Adriana -- Dr. Collini -- left some notes on him, but I don't think I've ever met the man personally." Then he paused, scratched his chin, and reconsidered. "On second thought, I suppose that's not entirely true. I did meet Mr. Adams once, just for a few moments, back in the Mountain." Park cleared his throat as he tried to think whether he should speak more on the topic at all, whether anything could be gained by it or not. The devil was in the details, or so they said. But perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing when one was on the hunt to preempt the devil in the first place.

"I wouldn't have known him if I hadn't seen the photo in Dr. Collini's notes. Everything she'd written -- and granted, there was much at all -- said there was nothing at all out of the ordinary, hardly so much as a scar. No remarkable medical history, mental or otherwise. No psychological red flags, not even a particularly outstanding personality, in fact, she said, quite the opposite." To hear her tell it, Sylas Adams had been the epitome of unassuming in every way. Quiet, perhaps a little withdrawn, but in no way anyone found especially concerning. Or at least not until too late.

"I had an idea to join him for lunch at the cafeteria back in the Mountain," Park mused quietly, his brow furrowed. "It was going on days before launch, and everyone was...well, you know. Somewhere between anxious and reverent. Everything was spoken in whispers, more gestures and touches than actual words. And in all that fatalistic loving, I looked and saw this man sitting against a wall, so close it seemed he'd almost moved his chair back to keep it against something solid. The only thing that seemed strange at the time was that his plate was nearly empty, but he didn't seem to be eating anything. I didn't think much of it, I suppose. There was an empty seat next to him, so I sat down. I hadn't even gotten to really speak to him beyond a, 'Is this seat taken?' before he was leaving again."

Park trailed off for the moment, caught in the memory. Then he shook himself. "Mind you, it probably isn't anything. There was days in the Mountain I'd felt inclined to take meals by myself. But it did seem...odd somehow." Or rather he had. But Park didn't add that part. He was more than used to not being able to explain his hunches, his phantasmic glimpses of intuition, let alone regarding something so ominous.

Still. What might have happened if he had elected to sit beside the new world's first condemned man?

Park shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, once more turning a charming grin to his two companions.

"But that hardly seems the topic to settle an empty stomach, does it. Where do we stand on sandwich fixin's?"

The Last Kings of Orion

Thanks, Grainsy! Both here, and PM-wise. I'm hoping to have something up later this evening. =)

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*gasp* Ball's in my court! =D

Never Lose Your Hat!

Oh, wow. You...oh, wow. =D *applause*

The Last Kings of Orion

XD S'okay, Grainsy, you are still my first love. After LT. And maybe Heroes. Possibly Derren, but that's almost certainly it for sure I think maybe.

And Kuro, no rush, just a suggestion. =) Deli'll be down in the hangar for a bit either way.

EDIT: Grainles, all your posts make me middle-school-status excited over various romantic relationships possible aboard Copernicus. Most of them are wildly unrealistic, but I am a hopeless romantic and incredibly idealistic. *reenacts opening scene from The Sound of Music*

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Alright, just a teeny post. =)

Roadster and Grainy, Kuro and Justric, GREAT posts! Have I mentioned I absolutely in love with you all I am? Probably not, because Grainsy has a tendency to get her feelings hurt (I've left her jilted at the altar maybe just one too many times?), but it's true anyway. =D

Also, Kuro, if Connor's still headed for the mining pods, I think we can probably work on a collab next, if you're interested?

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Park stood quietly as Robert -- Hob -- went off on a rant that clearly had much more fueling it than simply being 'cornered' by a few members of the medical field, his smile fading only out of polite respect for a would-be client. He had long since learned to indulge, at least to a point, in angry tirades, lest the person assume you weren't taking them seriously. Of course, too much indulgence could be counterproductive, but 'opening up' didn't seem to be the problem here.

That said, he could hardly except the sandwich made for someone else.

When Hob had finished and stalked off -- Park simply moved aside, making a mental note to introduce Hob to Deli at some point, if either ever agreed to speak amicably to him -- Park turned to his other companions and sat down, nodding first at Abby.

"The pleasure is all mine, First Sergeant Larson," he said brightly, before holding up a hand. "And because I can feel the 'just call me blank' is coming, I'll ask you to do the same. Park is just fine, thank you."

Laughing, he grinned at Gavin. "If he'd stayed any longer, I'd have told him I'm allergic to cats, and a horrible knitter. But I don't think it would have helped the situation much."

Looking down at the plate (somewhat) proffered him, he shrugged. "In any case, it seems a shame to let such a beautiful creation go to waste. I don't suppose either of you two would be interested in a sandwich?" he offered, then looking between both Gavin and Abby, smiled a bit more sincerely.

"Or maybe you've lunch plans of your own?"

Never Lose Your Hat!

If she had to guess, Ivy thought Jötz might kill her, or lecture her later at the very least. But had it been worth it to see the expression of muted bewilderment cross his face? Most definitely.

And would it be worth it to maybe shut up this rotting pirate king?

Well. That was much harder to say. But that was also future-Ivy's problem. Right-now-Ivy hadn't blown up a missing barge just to be stopped by a pile of bolts, screws, bones, and fancy silks.

Besides, Jötz had been keeping up well enough so far. This would just be another in a long and frustrating line of fun challenges for both of them.

Of course, as Ivy strode forward, the flush on her face quickly fading under a set jaw and green eyes cold and hard as ice, she was thinking about none of that. The only thought in her head was that this dead guy was in her way, and being extraordinarily rude to boot.

"That's enough."

Baffled Jaeger, growling monster dogs, evil undead pirate. In an instant, all shifted from 'threat' to 'mere annoyance', and then Ivy was pushing right past Jötz, pushing the pistol, her pistol, aside, and glaring up the almost two feet into that putrid glow of green.

"Listen here, you molding pile of twigs," she growled, jabbing one finger into an area she roughly assumed to be Ludd's sternum, for once not unnerved by the continued sloughing of decaying flesh from his body, "I don't care who you were in life, you've never been a Heterodyne. I could be a fly on the wall of the outhouse belonging to the lowliest Heterodyne servant, and my life, my name would still be thrice the legend you could sum up in yours. And if you want to leave this dusty excuse for a library any more than another layer of silt, you'll show some respect.

"For starters, you don't make the deals. I do. If you really think a handful of clanks -- " Ivy waved a hand in the general direction of Ludd's dogs; at once, Petris sprang from its most recent hiding space crouched beneath the nearest of the small pack, extending one spindly leg to wrap around the joint between shoulder and forearm. There was a whirring sound, and then the clatter of metal as the foreleg fell away. The hound began to tip forward, growling its displeasure as Petris scuttled away again, now tucking itself away into the crevice of a bookshelf where the hounds would be forced to hack away at their master's 'treasure' to reach their new prey.

" -- and a gun I made," Ivy went on, no small amount of smugness in her voice, "a gun with no rounds left are going to scare me into doing anything for you, your brain is more rotted than you think, old man. How long have you been gone, to believe anyone even knows who you are? You are a story to frighten children, at best, and even those children are the dull-witted sort in backwater towns. In the city, you'll be nothing, less than nothing, and that only with the word of a Heterodyne at your back." Ivy smirked and turned away, very deliberately putting her back to the former pirate.

"Now. The matter of this body -- assuming I decide to help you at all -- Don't you think your dogs would have turned up anything down here? We'll have to go into the next town one way or another." There would be problems of their own sort there, of that she had no doubt. But that was a bridge to be crossed -- or burned -- when it came.

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I'm hoping to get a short post up this evening, Grains! But if I don't, please don't wait up for me. I'm pretty sure by the end of your post, Park'll be alone in the caf anyway?