maskormenacelogs | You stumble in the dark

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You stumble in the dark

WHO: Newton Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb
WHERE: Hospital in PA.
WHEN: Aug 3, late morning.
WHAT: First order of business, Hermann and Newt check out of the hospital and start figuring out where they stand in this world.
WARNINGS: Inevitably there will be some form of shrieking scientists. Newt might have PG13 language on occasion. Mild mention of hospital stuff.

Hours after they checked in, having slept the night in the hospital, Newt dragged himself out of bed and checked himself out. Looking over the preliminary information from the tests, everything was about as well as to be expected after a couple of experimental drifts and some up close Kaiju interaction, but the MRI came back relatively fine and he'd been given eye drops and told not to worry too much about the hemorrhaging in his left eye (but to come back if it worsens, which Newt was not exactly keen on doing). They want to give him diazepam, but suggest he see a specialist first.

He ran into a vending machine halfway to finding Hermann and, though he could do with some breakfast right now (real food, not peanuts and pretzels and Snickers bars), he bought them a thing of peanut butter cookies to share (three to the bag--one for each and they could argue over who got the third before they split it...and then argue over the imperfect split).

Newt was almost done with the first cookie before he even set foot in Hermann's room.

"Oh, hey! There you are." He spoke around the cookie held between his teeth and nudged the curtain aside to step in, then tugged it closed behind him, tossing the opened package of cookies on Hermann's chest carelessly as a way of handing it over. It was a relief to see Hermann didn't look like he had been put through the wringer anymore, just a little roughed up. "Enjoying a little R & R?"

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It spoke of his exhaustion that he'd voluntarily slept in a hospital. His tests had come back as well as could be expected, he got a new prescription for pain killers, but still no cane. He'd need to find or custom order one somewhere, because he wouldn't abide the crutch much longer.

He was drifting in that hazy line dividing awareness and unconsciousness when the metal slide of the curtain gave way and a small weight collided with his chest. Hermann blinked to full awareness and frowned down at the crumbs littering his hospital gown and deftly swiped them off.

Of course it would be Newton.

"I was before you barged in." In truth, he had been working to avoid thinking too much, just allowing himself a few moments of precious peace in where the Breach was collapsed, and he didn't have to consider living in an alternate dimension yet.

But that was over now and Hermann examined a cookie, only just now beginning to come aware of how hungry he was. It disappeared in record time.

"Did you get your test results?"

Newt bit his lip and grimaced just a little before his next response, shifting and finally dragging a chair over to the bedside. They might be here a while and though he was enjoying the ridiculously off-centered balance of power that standing seemed to afford him (not often he towered over Hermann), he might as well get comfortable.

"Well, I got the results on the MRI, which was fine by the way, and I got my eye checked out, also fine. Blood-pressure and heart-rate were elevated, but nothing terribly unusual for me. Gave them the usually samples." Urine, basically. They mainly wanted to look at his head and eye.

He fidgeted, leg jiggling the chair as it bounced. "I did not have blood-work done, but that's complicated and we'll go over the why on that sometime later, but anyway. How about your tests?" Without asking, he reached for the clipboard at the end of the bed. "Did they figure out you're a robot yet?"

Edited (because) 2015-08-04 02:30 (UTC)

Considering Newton had drifted with a Kaiju for a full twenty-five minutes, Hermann expected something alarming to show up in the MRI. Then there was the matter of their supposed connection. More pressing was why Newton might have refused any and all blood tests. The man had expressed (reasonable) concern over the radiation, after all. Granted, they knew from Hermann's blood tests that everything was fine now..

He kicked out his right foot in an attempt to dissuade the hand going for his medical chart. "Honestly Newton, have some decency."

The man knew, had known before, and now he knew the full extent of his condition that Hermann had never bothered to explain before, but the defensive reaction was practically knee-jerk by now.

"No noticeable deterioration," he summarized with a sigh. And wasn't that a surprise. "I'm told the initial injection could possibly mean no further advancement, but it hasn't been tested."

He didn't appreciate being a guinea pig, but there was no getting rid of the nanites at this point. It should be good news, but Hermann was long past having any real hope for improvement. He occupied himself with extracting another- the last? - cookie from within its crinkly packaging.

The kick did nothing to dissuade him. It actually made him more curious and he swatted at Hermann's foot in return.

"When have you ever known me to have even a modicum of decency? Come on."

The papers on the clipboard, which Newt gave a very thorough look over, twice (they did concern Hermann, after all, and they were sort of stuck with each other; Newt might as well know--not that he cared or anything), all fit with what Hermann was telling him.

"Injection?" He raised a brow as if to ask puzzled to think that had been voluntary on Hermann's part, then frowned. "I don't like this. I mean," he set the clipboard down by Hermann's feet, "good for 'no noticeable deterioration'--obviously--A Plus for that if they can do that, but all of this-- radiation, injections, guinea pigging, powers? I REAlly want this to be something cool, but--but it's not." He snatched up the plastic wrap from the cookie away from Hermann, crumpling it into a ball to busy his hands. "It's really not. They're not even normal powers! What happened to super-strength? Speed? A utility belt?"

Newt gave a huff and got up from his chair to toss out the wrapper, missing the trash once because the plastic unfurled and drifted too far south when he threw it with too much vigor. "You know, I can deal with you in my head all the time--that at least was a risk of the Drift--but I thought I'd at least stay human."

Hermann watched Newton's building aggravation with a critical eye. He felt his own irritation rising to match- or was that just en echo?

"Sit down, Newton." The man would start pacing soon, and he really didn't want to deal with that. But his breath stuttered to a halt in his chest, pausing halfway into a bite, and swallowed. He immediately looked Newton over for any physical changes and found none. Was Newton simply exaggerating the effects of those new abilities?

All he knew about his own power was a psychic awareness (and empathy?) of Newton- hadn't made it further than that before he was up and searching for him. His lab partner seemed to suggest it was a mutual affliction- which he realized he'd already assumed had been the case. Dealing with that would come later, however.

"What do you mean by inhuman?" It was a delicate inquiry as his heart picked up speed, half afraid of the answer.

Newt took a seat, though it hardly contained his energy or nerves.

It was an answer he was half afraid to give. Newt fidgeted a bit more, opening his mouth to say something and then with a breath closing it again until he finally threw himself to his feet again and paced around the end of the bed restlessly.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest with uncertainty? fear? Newt glanced at Hermann, unsure, actually whose anxiety that was and he worried at the inside of his cheek, put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath, staring down the bed at Hermann.

"It's why I couldn't get blood drawn."

He tossed the folder onto the bed over-dramatically. Newt wouldn't ask for it, but he wanted Hermann's brain. He didn't trust his own right now, not on this, and he didn't really trust that damn medical doctor. He wanted someone who had seen Kaiju Blue first hand, someone who knew almost as much about the creatures as Newt, who had seen in their heads and from their eyes. He wanted a second opinion and asking Hermann was tantamount to begging him, neither of which he would ever do.

"It's blue. My blood is blue, Hermann." It was the doctor who checked his file, not Newt--routine, the man said, for all cases with imPorts--and informed him that they weren't going to do blood-work. His voice rose, edging into shrill territory. "I'd really really not like it to mean what I think it means, but the file says it's toxic to touch and toxic to ingest and--" Newt gestured uselessly, throwing his hands in the air, his expression tight but mixed, caught somewhere between sadness, anger, fear, self-pity and maybe a little regret. "Don't even say it, you asshole. Just don't--don't say anything. I know. I get it--I know. I've cemented my status as Kaiju Groupie."

A wavering laugh. "Tell me I'm not the only one who drew the short end of the stick here."

The longer Newton stretched it out, the more alarmed Hermann began to feel. A linear correlation he could practically chart himself. He kept catching glances of Newton's ill-contained energy, of the anxiety caught behind those reflective lenses, and finally flicked his eyes down to the file that landed on his bed with a deceptively soft sound of displacement.

His fingers froze before he even touched it, fingertips suspended over the innocuous manila folder.

Blue.

He was really starting to hate that color. The color of the drift, the color of their blood, the color of the sea and sky.

Hermann snatched the file up and fumbled for his glasses, not bothering to respond to Newton's remarks when his heart was racing. He skimmed down to the relevant section and paused, then read slowly, intensely until he understood the necessity of every word and what each of them meant.

He glanced back up at Newton, mouth drawn into a tight line. For the first time, he felt like he should possibly apologize for an insult, but quelled down the consideration.

"You have incredible recovery capabilities." It was a weak comfort, but there wasn't much else he could offer. Newton's blood was a variant of Kaiju Blue, and he could only guess that meant self-immunity, or it would have completely eviscerated him in minutes. He tried not to think about that image too much.

"It doesn't say anything about air exposure."

Hermann looked to where his file was still perched on his bed stand. He hadn't read its entirety yet, and a nurse had looked it over, but mentioned nothing further than his connection to Newton as confirmation of identity. Whatever was in there wasn't biological in nature, then- a fact he was absurdly grateful for, because he had enough of those irregularities already.

He snorted. "Maybe that recovery capability is the only thing keeping it in check." The flutters of their hearts were still heavy and Newt tried not to wring his hands as he waited for Hermann's verdict.

Yeah, it didn't say air exposure, but Newt wasn't sure how thorough the people who made that file were with their tests, assuming tests were run (he wasn't even sure how they knew what his radiation powers were before he did!), and if all possibilities were taken into account. He was always so skeptical of other people's tests when they didn't show their work!!

So many people had died before they knew the complete extent of the damage done by Kaiju Blue. He didn't want to be that kind of plague just because he cut himself shaving or something equally shitty.

"We could test it!" The brightness was sarcasm, through and through. Though as he moved over to Hermann's bed-stand to carefully pick up the file with his lab partner's name on it, there was a part of Newt that was eyeing the cabinets lining the walls with intense consideration, wondering if he could get past their simple locks and take a scalpel out, just to know the immediate danger his blood did pose. It always felt better to know something than to go along on blind faith or idiotic hope. Science held facts and facts meant testing and retesting and finding some level of certainty because ignorance was not bliss, it was the anxiety of waiting for something to go wrong and never knowing if it was as bad, or worse, than you imagined. And he could imagine quite a lot.

It was better to just do it and know.

He pushed his glasses up and then held the file out to Hermann, managing a determined smile.

"Let's do this, ok, buddy? We'll just--just yank that band-aid off quickly--do you want to, or should I?"

Hermann doubted it. As astounding as the man's recovery claimed to be, it was highly unlikely he could recover quickly enough to stave off the effects for long. And much as he wished to dissuade Newton from testing in this particular instance, he knew as well as anyone that it was better to know than to proceed in ignorance.

He'd probably never forgive the UN (his father) for building the Wall.

Shaking those thoughts free, Hermann exchanged Newton's file for his own, and flipped it open. He could read the rest of it later, but for now..

"Neural Synchronization," Obviously, he'd seen the same thing in Newton's, but it was a fleeting delay tactic. "...Materialization, Teleportation." He frowned at the words as they failed to be followed by anything remotely helpful.

Teleportation!? The word echoed an internal disbelief. With a flick of his wrist, he offered the folder back to Newton for confirmation.

"There's no more information."

He could only guess what materialization meant exactly, but neither of them sounded like things that might have physically altered him.

There might have been a pout, then Newt frowned and leaned over to look at the file just to be sure there wasn't anything hiding on the page that might better explain. He took it when it was offered and, after turning the paper over a few times, sure enough, nothing else to suggest how the powers were accessed, just that they apparently existed. No instruction manual at all.

He was a little jealous of Hermann's powers, but even Newt couldn't deny: they were hilariously mathematical. Perfect for a physicist.

"Whoa, but vague much?? There's a hundred different ways teleportation works in sci-fi, but I guess it's going to be confined to just you? Like you're your own personal Scotty. I'm just...trying to figure out what materialization is," he said, taking a seat on the bed with a bit of a bounce, hands working the air as he spoke. "I mean, I know what it is, but how it's going to work and how it's different from teleportation. Are you just going to disassemble your environment and reuse the molecules? Are you going to de-materialize--like a ghost or something?? It's not like you can break the law of conservation of matter, so whatever you want to make has to draw from somewhere." Hermann knew that, though; this was more of his field.

Newt wouldn't say it, but frankly, he had a hard time wrapping his head around this. He hoped that confusion was partly hunger-induced and that that the simple 'there's no more information' meant Hermann was just as perplexed as he was.

Hermann cocked his head in a loose shrug and took his file back, closed it, and set it aside. He still didn't full believe it, even if he knew, had felt the connection between them like a physical pull. Perhaps it was simply a strong holdover from the drift- they hadn't been apart since.

It was more healthy skepticism than outright denial, because he couldn't help but be curious. He peered speculatively at his crutch, wondering if it was possible to manipulate it. Obviously it was more complex than willing a cane into existence. Proving one of these abilities to themselves was tantamount to proving the others correct, and it was certainly a safer alternative than letting Newton cut himself open.

"Give me that," he said with a motion to the crutch resting against the end of his bed. "And get my clothes while you're at it. Neither of have eaten in 20 hours."

He had the passing, random thought that Hermann would be unappreciative of any plans Newt had to experiment with his new blood, but then the thought faded and moved along quickly to food before he had time to wonder where that tinge of annoyed worry might have come from.

"Anything substantial, you mean." Semantics. Newt scooted off the bed and shoved the crutch over to Hermann, a little harder than necessary since Hermann saw fit to order him around. "Unless you forgot those two cookies as soon as you wolfed them down." The clothes, though, he didn't entirely throw at Hermann, even if he kind of tossed them towards the bed. His aim, at least when aiming at Hermann and vicinity, was well-honed and at least the clothes weren't Kaiju parts.

Hermann snagged the crutch with an awkward grip, then righted it and raised a sardonic eyebrow at Newton when his clothes followed in a slightly gentler fashion. But he turned attention away from them for now to focus on the crutch in his hand. He lifted it until it lay across his lap and let his hands drift over the surfaces with a contemplative expression.

"Now be quiet for a few minutes and let me concentrate." Not that he wasn't accustomed to working with Newton's ranting in the background, but the consideration would be nice. It may or may not work either way. Would an ability like this even conform to mathematics or the laws of physics?

Hermann turned the crutch over, calculating length, width, density, and mass of each section and muttered the numbers under his breath. If he could do this, what would he alter and how? Obviously he'd like his cane, but the crutch was too big, and unless he could split it into multiple parts..?

That should be simple enough, in theory. It was the same exact pieces, only separate. Nevermind he'd be destroying his only walking support if it worked, but then he could just fashion a cane out of the smaller pieces. Hopefully.

The crutch disintegrated beneath his hands in a dull flash of tiny numbers, and for a moment, that in itself was proof enough. His fingers clasped around nothing, eyes widening from their furrowed concentration when the crutch came back in much the same way, this time distributed in pieces across his lap.

Newt stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes, but leaned back to watch in silence. Hermann reminded him of a magician, there, waving his hands over the crutch as if he was going to change it without any incantations or spells or instructions--

"Oh, shi--" It was more a breath than a curse and it didn't really work but it didn't not work either. Or maybe it worked, he wasn't sure what Hermann was going for exactly, but something happened, at the very least, and for not having any instructions (ha, expect math, of course) it was impressive. He adjusted his glasses and crouched down, picking up a piece of the crutch from Hermann's lap.

"Was that what you were going for? If not... Uh... Try reparo?" he offered with amusement.

Hermann mirrored Newton's curiosity, plucking up a piece and turning it over, testing it. It was solid in his grasp and he couldn't help the wonder that filled in for the moment of shock. Could he touch anything like that?

But he dragged his mind back to the scientific, and glanced up at Newton with a self-satisfied expression. "It seemed like the simplest method of manipulation. In addition.. I don't need a cane the length of my body."

He was quietly delighted to find a piece that matched his exact mental specifications- the precise length of his cane, only missing the solid metal handle and rubber tip. Somewhat thicker around than it needed to be, but he could handle a crude replacement for now.

He took a small metal crossbar and the rubber end of the crutch and ran through new specifications. The pieces disappeared and reappeared in one solid piece, the metal piece warped to snugly fit his hand. This time, he smiled.

"This seems simple enough. It's... somewhat like programming, where my brain is the internal code which I then compile and implement - or perhaps project - into solid form. Fascinating."

Still didn't make complete scientific sense, and almost seemed closer to magic, but he could examine it in closer detail later. Right now, he had a serviceable cane, and by all accounts, their abilities seemed real.

In all likelihood, it meant Newton's Blue was real.

His eyes were bright and he was grinning as Hermann explained. The principle of it was simple enough--reprogram your world--and with a skilled programmer, the options might well be endless. Well, not endless, Hermann would probably remind him. There was a finite amount, but the options were expansive.

It didn't make sense, no, but nothing about this place made much sense.

But dammit, that bastard beat him to it, discovering a good use for his powers first. And he kind of resented Hermann for having such show-offy powers when Newts were so...internal. Newt wanted to be mad at him--that smug face...Hermann proving everything on that paper was true with a pseudoscience magic trick--but god, it was just so...yeah, fascinating was the right word for it...so fascinating and so unbelievable that he was too awestruck to properly complain.

"Oh, hey, that makes ...sense, I guess. About as much sense as super-healing and Kaiju-blooded humans, anyway. How much focus did that take? Is it something you can unintentionally trigger, you think? And did it use up much energy--" They couldn't get something for nothing. Even with the pieces there, it still took energy to rearrange them, and the energy had to come from somewhere...probably Hermann, who already had low reserves anyway. Especially right now since they hadn't eaten well in a while. Newt's stomach grumbled to remind him. "Ah, here, you know what?" He eased up from the floor and took a couple steps away, turning his back. "Get dressed and tell me about everything you can it. I'm getting hungry, so let's get moving."

Hermann could concede that food seemed like it should take priority, not the least because the two cookies had eaten only served to awaken his appetite rather than stave it off. Not to mention he'd like to get out of his hospital gown.

He set the cane and the other pieces aside and stood, swaying dangerously a moment before his vision cleared. He quickly stabilized himself against the bed frame while he dressed and answered Newton's questions at the same time.

"It's difficult to say. I experienced a brief spell of dizziness in standing, however.. that could be due to lack of sustenance as to anything else. It certainly did require an intense focus. If I wasn't capable of running accurately complex equations without the use of a medium.." Pants and button up complete, he pulled his sweater down over his head.

"..Then I imagine it wouldn't have worked until I did so. You can turn around now." He pulled on his jacket, socks and shoes, and spared a moment to attempt to straighten his hair without a comb. ..One he might be able to program into existence now, but he didn't quite fancy the idea of falling on his face for putting in the effort before he ate just in case it did sap his strength.

"In short, I'll need to attempt steadily more complex manipulations before I can prove anything."

He nodded along, listening to Hermann's report on the brief use of the power. Newt had his hand over his eyes for effect when he turned back around, dropping it back to his side after a second.

"Yeah, we'll test it in a controlled environment, well-fed and rested and, you know, with more of a plan. We can draw up an outline for the study after we eat, make sure to collect some supplies, try to diversify the options, vary the size, scale, materials, and details of whatever you plan to make--take you out for a spin!" They disagreed on a lot of things, but Newt was pretty sure they could both agree this was cool and well-worth exploring. It surprised him that Hermann would be the one self-experimenting this time, but then again...wonders never ceased with Hermann Gottlieb, or at least in the last couple of days.

He collected the remainders of their belongings, including their files, and held open the door for Hermann. "Tell me we can both agree to look for someplace outside the hospital? I'd kind of like some actual non-cafeteria options in my diet again."

Hermann grabbed his makeshift cane and rearranged the bed to be slightly more presentable, but ultimately decided to leave the rest of the pieces of the crutch where they were. He found himself faintly amused by Newton's enthusiasm to test his new found ability, but it was a thorough study he didn't mind completing. It would be better to know the full extent of his capabilities, particularly when they had a carefully controlled method.

Teleportation however, he was not particularly keen on trying on a whim.

He glanced around the room one last time to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, then put his new cane to its first true test in getting him out the door. He relaxed when its integrity held- but of course it did, it was made out of an instrument created for support. Not to mention he'd made it.

"I can't say the thought holds much appeal," he admitted with a grimace. Other than proximity, because he was starving, but surely somewhere close by.. "I'll just sign a discharge form and we'll be on our way."

Granted, they still didn't know their way around, but they'd need to familiarize themselves with their surroundings eventually. After breakfast, they should probably look into locating their housing assignments..

He rolled his eyes at the bed-retouch and made something like urgent shooing motions toward the door. Sometime today, please. But the impatience was tempered by a sense of relief that...might have been Hermann's? Might have been his own. The new cane held out.

Newt let Hermann sign out, then walked along with him, keeping pace as they left the hospital. It was nice escape. to step out and smell the fresh air. He smelled enough antiseptics for one day, at least for a place that wasn't his own lab. God, he missed that place already.

"Okay, so there's go to be at least one fast-food place or cafe or, hell, even a coffee place--probably Dunkin--around here that we can eat at. It's America. There's food everywhere," he rambled as they started down the sidewalk, pulling out his phone-like device and searching for nearby restaurants and eateries. A few places came up, some even within walking distance, including a little strip mall across the street and up about a block. Thai, pizza...Dunkin, of course. Called it. They could eat donuts... He scrolled through the options, tipping the screen over towards Hermann for him to look at sometimes.

"Actually, to be honest, I'll eat anything at this point, but, you know what would be good? Some fish tacos. I haven't had fish tacos in forever. But that's kind of a West Coast thing. Or sushi. Hm. Sushi might be good, if we can find a place." Even on an empty stomach. "What about you?"

Edited (because my west coast was showing) 2015-08-04 11:02 (UTC)

The fresh air was very nice, and for the first time, Hermann finally got an idea of what their surroundings looked like. Trees and flatlands, an overcast sky that made him wary of rain, but it was a fairly decent temperature for the middle of summer.

He'd never really been to America proper before, assuming an island base off the coast of Alaska and a weekend conference in LA didn't count. It was just as well that Newton was familiar (although he wasn't entirely certain where they were in relation to Boston) with what must be the Eastern coast. New York, Florida.. everything else escaped him.

(People getting into the 'wrong' side of their cars in the parking lot)

Hermann glanced over at Newton's phone, felt his stomach give a loud growl, and huffed. "I don't care, Newton." Although he hadn't had any form of seafood in so long. "If we can find sushi within acceptable walking distance. Else, whatever happens to be close."

This wasn't home, but Newt had seen a bit of the US beyond just Massachusetts, before the Kaiju attacked. It could have been worse. They could have been in a country with less adaptable climates and a language neither of them spoke. Even if this city wasn't familiar, it wasn't like they'd get too lost. And if this was the East Coast, at least it wasn't the farthest thing from Hermann's natural habitat. Newt really didn't want to hear Hermann spend the entirety of their stay here bitching about the heat and humidity in Florida.

"All work and no food makes Hermann a grumpy boy," he grumbled, squinting at the screen and deciding which way to go. "We're turning left up here, two blocks and we'll be there. Spoilers! It's not sushi! More spoilers: it's pancakes, and they've got an all-you-can-eat deal going on--you can thank me later. They probably also have crepes if you're going to get hoity-toity on me, but then you're going to have to buy your own plate-refills." Not that Hermann wasn't going to be paying his own way anyway, but that the crepes probably wouldn't fall under the all you can eat.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"I think they said they'd set us up with funds. I think." He had to admit his recollection of that whole conversation was spotty at best and money was not the most important thing at the time. "I hope it's in effect right away because otherwise I don't have any American money on me and I'm not exactly sure that credit works across dimensions."

Hermann threw a narrowed look to Newton, then dragged his eyes ahead to their intended path. Pancakes weren't something he usually ate with particular frequency when he had a choice, but the idea of an unlimited supply of any food sounded heavenly right then. Sushi could come later, when he didn't feel sick with hunger.

The thought of not having any money was cause for alarm however, and his careful gait faltered for a moment as he racked his brain for previous mentions of funding. While it would be rather short-sighted of the government to leave them penniless, he also hadn't been issued any official credit card or anything. And yes, he very much doubted his own would work here.

Perhaps they should've eaten in the hospital after all. Or at least read their files more thoroughly. It's possible they'd missed several key factors by leaving through non-traditional means.

But they turned the corner and Hermann decided they'd ask before ordering, and if that didn't go well, channel the righteously homicidal feeling sneaking up on him into good use. The only reason he wasn't snapping right now was because the promise of food was in his near future. Heaven help anyone that delayed them any longer than necessary.

"If they know what's good for them, they have." If not, he'd lodge a scathing complaint until that changed.

What was that narrowed look for? He was making sure his grumpy lab partner was fed!! INGRATE. Next time he was going to pick something awful, like McDonald's. It was closer. He could have picked that. Hermann could have had to suffer through over-salted french fries and greasy burgers. But no! Newt was nice!

So nice.

In the lab, Hermann's ire had always been palpable in the air, like something electric, usually directed at Newt or at the television when it was reporting on the Wall. Now it was in Newt's head, a distinctive cloud of red hot simmering anger. Hermann on the warpath amused Newt, even when it was directed at him. Hermann lodged brilliant complaints, knew how to make techs cry with only his words... The accent and ridiculously stiff upper-lip probably helped. But there was a time and place for that, and blowing up because they didn't have money for food wasn't going to help get them food right this instant, especially since Newt could already foresee the initial bombs dropping on the hostess and not the government.

"Dude. Chill. Chill pill, now. I'll handle this-- I can be pret-ty charming when I want to be, and that's a hell of a lot more than you manage! And besides, we don't need to start our stay here with you getting us perma-banned from all the pancake houses in the state. Frankly that'd kind of suck."

"Charm," Hermann repeated, incredulous and looking Newton over with apparent skepticism. "Is that what you call your ridiculous posturing?"

But no, he'd seen it; the wheedling way Newton used to get extra tools or replacements from various members of the staff in the Shatterdome, how he always had a smile and overenthusiastic praise for anyone that granted him a favor. It was something he could never replicate himself. He was more comfortable issuing hissed threats and dressing downs until the other person broke under pressure, but he could grudgingly admit that Newton's method was more likely to succeed in this particular instance.

Not that he'd say so.

Edited 2015-08-05 09:26 (UTC)

"My--?!?!?"

Newt inhaled sharply, and if it were possible to fluff up with annoyance like a bird or a Ghibli character with emotion, he was probably doing that right now. DAMN YOUR EXTRA INCHES OF HEIGHT, GOTTLIEB.

"Posturing?!!"

He was shriller than necessary and probably more offended than he'd be without hunger to exacerbate his irritability. His hands flew along with his words. "Hey--I would like you to know: there are more than a FEW people who find me plen-ty charming and that charm has gotten you a sandwich after hours--mind you!--more times than I care to count, though I probably should keep count if only to hold it over you head--but anyway, point is, you might want to have a little more respect for my Charm, dude. Respect. The. Charm."

Hermann regarded his lab partner like one might look at a particularly persistent stray, only wincing when Newton's volume made the few people milling about the streets stop and stare. He scoffed, spine straightening a little more as they walked and what Hermann suspected to be their destination came into view.

"I've never asked you to do anything of the sort," he shot back. "And there's no need to pretend it's all for my sake. Anyone who so much as looks at you can see where most of those extra calories have gone."

Newton was in no danger of starving, to say the least, where it was all Hermann could do to maintain a healthy weight.

"Further, if you want me to respect anything, you can start by putting yourself to good use."

Edited 2015-08-05 10:11 (UTC)

There goes Hermann, acting like the ingrate he was, not even appreciating the sandwiches that were charmed for him, just because he didn't ask for them. Typical Hermann, Newt thought. TYPICAL. His next bout of annoyance and anger he hoped Hermann felt strongly through whatever connective power they supposedly had, because Newt was filing a very big COMPLAINT FORM and slam dunking it into Hermann's internal 'feedback' box.

"GOOD USE?!?" Newt's eyes were wide and yeah, maybe they were getting a few stares, but when weren't they? He had grown to ignore it. "After that VERY PERSONAL JAB at my weight?!! First off, fuck off." Flipping Hermann off between his usual talking gestures, Newt continued, transitioning easily into pointing accusingly at him. "Let's get something straight: just because you're a complete beanpole--and a complete asshole--doesn't mean I'm fat! SECONDLY! I don't think you get how this works, this respect thing-- You know? I don't neeeeeed you to respect my Charm, but you better respect it, or I'm going in there and charming my way into a rather large stack of delicious, endless pancakes, with butter and syrup--and you can sit outside and salivate miserably like one of Pavlov's dogs. And you better believe that I will eat every. last. one. of those pancakes in graphic detail--JUST to make you suffer."

His grin was sly, a little evil.

Hermann flinched, having apparently underestimated the extent of their empathetic connection as righteous indignity and frustration swept through him, layered over with far more insult than he'd intended. But it was always like that between them, and threatened by the overwhelming presence of Newton's emotions, he grasped for his own. It was like snatching at something intangible, unable to clearly define where each of them ended- and for a moment, that was terrifying.

Would it always be like this when they fought from now on?

But there, that flare of temper was his own, resentment following swiftly on its heels. His fingers tightened on his cane and he resisted the will to jab it into Newton's midsection and push him into the street. He stopped and swung the end of it an inch in front of his colleague's face instead.

"Let's not forget what I'm capable of now, Dr. Geiszler. I assure you would not enjoy the experience."

The feeling was like standing on the shore with the waves rolling in. Each wave of emotion crested and crashed against him, and as the undertow pulled back, the next wave surged in...again and again...the push and the pull. It was so bizarre to feel both at once, like he couldn't make up his mind whether his emotions were coming or going. He didn't like it at all.

Newt anticipated some reaction was coming before Hermann acted, if only because he felt the rise of anger in his colleague and that briefly dismissed impulse. But that still didn't stop him from being surprised when the cane stopped just short of hitting him on his nose.

He eyed the cane, so close that he was nearly cross-eyed looking at it, hostilities giving away to begrudging amusement and a smile quirking his lips.

"Ha! Neither would you." He cautiously eyed his lab partner. "If we do have a mental connection, you're going to be saddled with part of the pain, too--"

The violent roil of emotion faded to something more manageable, and Hermann lowered his cane to lean on it.

"It would certainly be one way of testing how far this went." The words were sour, but the force of Hermann's glare was fixed on a staring passerby. Heaving a sigh, he turned away from Newton and resumed walking. They were almost there, and food took priority above escalating an argument.

"If you manage to charm your way into a mutual breakfast, I promise to be suitably impressed and never breathe a word against it ever again."

He was just that hungry.

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