Day 50: Sun Room (4th Shift)

[ninelivesonce]

The Sun Room was dark when Taura re-entered it; her eyes adjusted quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid one of the 'techs coming over to talk to her.

"Were you going to join us for the movie, Kitty?" she asked, waving a hand at what appeared to be a 2-D projector screen.

"Movie?" This was, apparently, the wrong question to ask, as the woman's face fell into a moue of practiced disappointment.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself, Kitty." Doing what, exactly, was something 'Kitty' was evidently supposed to know. Then the screen flicked on, and some sort of advertisement was playing while a staffer adjusted the volume. Oh. The term was unfamiliar, but entertainment hadn't changed that much.

"I mean, er, what movie is it?" Taura rumbled, keeping her voice low so as not to interrupt. That must have been the right question; the woman brightened back up and started explaining.

"King Kong!" she said, clearly expecting a reply. Then she sighed, and continued. "It's about a giant ape, brought back from an exploration," she began. "It's also a love story -- oh, just trust me. It's a classic."

"The ape falls in love?" That sounded a little outré, at least by Institute standards of entertainment. Not by Jacksonian ones, but those Taura had been just as pleased to leave behind.

"Oh, nothing like that. Well, the ape does fall in love -- but it's just a beast. Why, Fay Wray doesn't even come up to its waist." Taura blinked at her again. What did height have to do with it, anyway? She was leaning, just a little, without even realizing it. Perhaps looming would be a better word. The 'tech blinked back, and then finally the penny dropped. "Oh...oh. Maybe it wouldn't be to your taste, dear." And with that, she scurried off to adjust a chair that was already facing the screen quite adequately. Taura sighed, and slipped through the gathering crowd to the bulletin board.

[Zack]

Comments

[vstheworld]

Scott got Matt's meaning when he went into Russian spy mode with his tone. He had already been trying to be covert in his trying to find an opening into the Game Room, so why not really push the theme here? If it made the guy smile (and from the looks of it, it seemed like it had been a while since he had smiled last), Scott was game.

"I'm into old school stuff, myself," he answered in a matching tone, putting the back of his hand to the side of his mouth and leaning in closer to talk. "All the classics. Mario. Zelda. Metroid. River City Ransom. That kinda thing. Some PC adventure games, too. Monkey Island's good." Even moreso now, Scott thought, wondering what Guybrush was stuffing in his pants right then. "I don't get to play the recent stuff much, but Tony Hawk I like. Silent Hill and Resident Evil are pretty useful to have played in a place like this, too." Understatement of the millennium.

His eyes bugged out for a moment, a sudden resurgence of memory jolting him. "Oh! Oh! We warped to the video store in Doyleton last night! Dude, they had a new Bionic Commando there! Do you know how hard it was to leave that behind? Aaaagghg! My life for a hook shot!" he exclaimed, grabbing at his hair with both hands in exaggerated agony. "I've got half a mind to just grab it the next time we're out there, console or no console. Seriously."

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

"What?" He turned to stare fully at Scott, eyes wider than they had been in what seemed like forever. Forget the fact that he'd collapsed in the middle of a busy street after being shot repeatedly, only to wake up in an insane asylum and told that he was nuttier than a fruitcake. Forget the fact that he'd stepped through a door just the night before and stepped out on that very same street, with his car still there. Forget the fact that the place was lousy with nurses who would give them stern looks of death if they made a commotion over something as minute as video games when the great King Kong was up on the screen.

This guy had turned his back on a Capcom game. There had to be something wrong with him.

He could kind of see the lack of game console to play it on holding him up, but if a guy was smart enough and determined enough, that wouldn't be an issue for long.

Then something else dawned on him, and he blinked; still keeping his voice low, he glanced to the nurses before focusing on Scott as much as his still somewhat shut-down brain would allow for. "There's a video store in Doyleton? Is there a bodega? Or- or a smoke shop of any kind?" He knew that bodega was probably a colloquial term - which was still hard to tell, when he'd been to pretty much every region of the world - but one that was fairly well known. He coughed, knowing that Scott's next answer would make up the bulk of his plans for the next "field trip."

If he was still in Landel's by that point.

[vstheworld]

Scott gave Matt a tortured look at the reaction to his admittedly unforgivable abandonment. The look said everything he wanted to without words (or at least he hoped it would): that he had really, really, really, really, really wanted to take the game with him, but that not turning into zombie chowder took slightly higher priority. Also that he was pretty sure the game wasn't compatible with the Institute's GameBoys. Oh, and that he was getting kind of hungry right now. How long was it until dinner again?

Scott had surprisingly complex facial expressions at times.

He tilted his head at the question, trying to remember. "Uhhhh, I know there's a little grocery store, at least. And I think there's a bar too? I didn't go there, though," he answered, crossing his arms casually and leaning back against the wall in thought. "Either way, they don't really like to give us coupons for cigarettes, guy. You'd have better luck trying to find them around the Institute in places, I think."

He paused. Then it hit him. "Wait, you smoke? Why would you smoke?" he asked. It was bad enough that Ramona still sometimes did, and that Lisa had when she had been around. They weren't even the only ones in his friend group, either. How anyone could possibly do something so gross to themselves, he had no idea, really. Yuck.

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

Matt knew that look; he'd seen it on half the other kids at Wammy's when their rankings had come up short. Personally, Matt never gave a crap about rankings - but games. That was a good reason to appear tormented. He had to feel bad for the guy, though; after all, this was his brethren in video game worship that he was speaking to. If the guy was half as cool as he seemed, leaving that game behind must've hurt mentally, spiritually - and maybe even physically, if he was just so inclined. Matt had heard of stranger things.

His answering facial expression was completely spontaneous for the first few seconds; it was one of complete annoyance, eyes narrowed and heavy-lidded, lips pursed to one side. He just stared at the other male like that for a moment or two before realizing that he was doing it. Blinking twice, he just left his face like that, figuring it to be an accurate enough summation of what he was trying to get across.

"It's something t'do with my hands when there's not a game in them," he answered, his voice low and gruff; he didn't appreciate the spontaneous round of twenty questions, and he didn't much give a damn at the moment if it showed.

And yes, in Matt's eyes, two questions were totally the same as twenty.

"What d'you do t'occupy the time your face spends not glued to a screen?" he asked, not really all that curious for the answer; he was mostly being a prat.

[vstheworld]

Scott could think of a few things he could do with his hands when there wasn't a controller in them, but at least one of them wasn't exactly appropriate for conversation with a total stranger.

For now, he decided to go with the straight answer, since that was not only simple, but also put a grin on his face. "Oh, that's easy! I play in a rockin' band with some friends of mine. We totally don't suck, either!" If life in Landel's had had text boxes, one would have appeared under Scott then reading "They totally do." The sentiment showed a little in his expression, letting Matt know that Scott was at least a little self-aware. "We're called Sex Bob-omb, and last I checked, I think we were trying to record an album. Look us up sometime." From the slightly annoyed look on Matt's face, Scott wasn't really expecting the guy to look the band up when he got home (and they were all getting home at some point, dang it!). It was worth a shot to try, though, he figured.

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

The former Wammy student didn't have much experience in the area of dealing with people as diverse as the population at Landel's seemed to be, but he seemed to have picked a real winner with his boy Scott; kid should never be allowed to participate in a game of poker, especially not against someone as hyper-observant as Matt, who basically made his living from stalking people. He noted the hints in Scott's expression that proved there was a firm belief in most of what was coming from his own mouth, but he at least had a clue that he might be putting himself on just a tad. To be honest, it was somewhat refreshing; the kid was a semi-open book, and Matt was sure that, with a little time and energy, he could turn a few more pages and learn whatever he wanted about the kid.

Problem was he didn't quite have the energy for something so engrossed at the moment. Instead, he tried to focus on the conversation, no matter how unsavory the subject had turned.

"'m not much of a music person," he admitted in barely more than a grumble; the only tune he ever allowed himself to enjoy was the beeping of his DS - and maybe the background music on a few of his less creepy RPGs, when the mood struck. "But seriously. Sex Bob-omb?" He gave Scott a look, mild disgust mingled with a confused amusement. "How many hours'a Super Mario had you clocked to sustain the level of brain damage you'd need t'come up with that? Because. Really. You could've done better."

Matt really wasn't aiming to be an asshole; he just had a bad honesty streak that Wammy's hadn't been able to work out of him.

[vstheworld]

Whether Matt had been aiming to be an asshole or not, that was sort of how he was coming across to Scott at the moment. Sure, his words weren't that much harsher than some of the things Kim or Stephen Stills said to Scott on a regular basis, but Kim and Stephen Stills were allowed! They were buds, bandmates. Matt was still just a hair above stranger territory, shared interests aside.

"Hey, there's some Tom Jones in that name too! That's some added class right there," Scott protested. "It's two things in one! It's a smash-up on the level of peanut butter and jelly! It's beautiful! It rocks! It was kind of Stephen Stills' idea too, not just mine!" He shook his head on that last point, diverting attention by pointing at Matt with an accusatory finger. "So don't knock the power of Sex Bob-omb until you know the power of Sex Bob-omb. We'll blow up your mind, man. Mess you up. For reals."

The accusatory finger was lowered quickly as Scott started running out of steam, however. The bassist paused. Then, trying to hide a small surge of bitterness in his tone, he added: "Besides, Kid Chameleon was taken." There was a short series of flashes in his memory when he spoke that name. Images of the namesake game came second to faded pictures of days gone by. University. New friends. Long hair. Nat. Blissful romance. The sweet life. Then Envy. New clothes. Lost interest. Record labels. Fallout. Heartbreak.

Scott bit his lip, trying not to think about that of all things right now. He had taken care of that, hadn't he? He was over it. "...Anyway, it's what we went with. It's working for us," he said in a more normal tone of voice now that he had come down from his accusatory high. "Kinda worry that we haven't practiced for a while, though. Being stuck here isn't helping right now. I mean, what if we suck by the time we have to play a show again?" God forbid that would actually happen.

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

Matt stared a moment, unsure if the guy had really just stuck his finger in a complete stranger's face. He realized he'd said something offensive - after the fact, per usual - but he couldn't really figure out what it was that had made the guy go off his semi-rocker like that.

Turning to face Scott, Matt glanced over at the gaggle of nurses still hovering close to the door, to make sure they weren't being watched too closely, thanks to that outburst.

"I don't like bein' here any more than anyone else in this place," he replied in a low tone, looking right at Scott. "Sorry for offending you, since it's obvious that I did, an' sorry you're not gettin' th'practice your band needs." He wasn't big on the music scene, but Matt wasn't oblivious to it; games wouldn't be near as entertaining if they didn't have background music to accompany the action, would they? Besides. It seemed unlikely that someone with resources like Landel would poof useless people to his loony bin. It was just a matter of time before Matt figured out what everyone's uses were - including Scott's. He needed to at least try to keep on everyone's good sides until then.

"But." His tone became even more serious, if that was possible. His eyes narrowed, unblinking, and he took a very small step forward. He wasn't sure he could appear even a tiny bit menacing, but he could try, dammit. "Have you looked 'round at the diversity we have in this place? Might not be a good idea to go shoving appendages in people's face. Might not return. Y'know?"

Of course, Matt couldn't do anything like that, nor would he, if he could. But he was pretty certain that if this guy had stuck his finger in Mello's face... Well. Matt just had an inner chuckle at that mental image.