maskormenacelogs | the more you ignore me the closer I get

WHO: Newton Geiszler, Hermann Gottlieb, Qubit
WHERE: the Drift Nerds' apartment
WHEN: Nov 19th
WHAT: Qubit offered to help them. They accepted.
WARNINGS: Newt's mouth.

Newt was having second thoughts.

Out of everyone they had met here, Newt and Hermann had disclosed the most about the Drift (and specifically their Drift) to Qubit. They trusted him. His offer to help was welcomed, even if without LOCCENT-like equipment, Qubit couldn't very well test the solidity of their neural bridge. But whatever ideas Qubit might have, or equipment he might bring, Newt suspected enhancing their Drift connection wasn't going to be just science. Stabilizing it was likely going to boil down to one thing: they needed therapy. They needed to talk and talking was difficult, and Newt had never had a real heart-to-heart with Hermann with an audience. It was like going to couple's counseling, he imagined, only without sex to look forward to later. Which was itself an awkward thought at the moment and... did they have to do this?

If they worked hard enough at this--at the Drift itself, at trust, at opening up--their connection did have viable scientific applications and would (in theory) help to prevent them from fueling each other's emotional fires at the wrong time. But...

Newt's knee bounced nervously as he waited for Qubit to show, and he bounded up from the couch. "I'm getting another cup of coffee. You want one?"

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Hermann glanced up from his book and regarded Newton from over the rim of his glasses. The man was nervous, had been fidgeting beside him for a good ten minutes that the sudden excuse to occupy himself elsewhere was far from unexpected.

"I'm fine Newton, thank you. I'll get the door if Mr. Qubit uses it." Always questionable, considering the man's portal ability. He was still rather envious of it. But it was a good thing that Newton wasn't capable of teleportation, or he likely would have left by now.

"You do realize we need to do this."

He stopped before making it to the kitchen and turned on his heel, mug still in hand. "Gee, Hermann, really? I hadn't noticed." Being anxious made him testy and short with even Hermann (especially with Hermann, who he had plenty of experience being testy with).

"But you look at me and tell me YOU aren't a little bit uncomfortable about getting in touch with your feelings," he jabbed the mug in Hermann's direction in lieu of pointing, a few stray drops flying out of the otherwise empty cup, "and building a stronger neural bridge or whatever the hell we think we can do here--because I'm pretty damn sure this feeling isn't just me!" Setting down the mug, he frowned.

"It isn't, right? Fucking-a, why do I get stuck with the damn jitters and cold-feet, while you're over there cool as a cucumber? I thought you were supposed to be the worrywart in this relationship. Why aren't you having a meltdown? How the hell do I get saddled with BOTH our neuroses???!!!" There was absolutely no basis for his claim, but Newt was not about to admit that he couldn't handle it when Hermann so clearly had this under control. It just wasn't fair. He hoped Qubit arrived soon so he could at least focus his anxiety into DOING SOMETHING.

"It is discomfiting," Hermann agreed mildly and with a frisson of uncertainty. He wasn't good with emotions. He shut his book with a snap.

"And yes, I do worry. Every day, I consider it a victory when we make it home safely without incident. I try to maintain my energy levels so that I can teleport us to safety should the need arise. We're even working on a device simply because I want to be prepared for the worst-case scenario."

He grabbed his cane and stood, taking measured steps across the living room with one hand in his pocket.

"But I don't have any reason to believe a few experiments and conversations will damage our relationship in any way. And Mr. Qubit has shown himself to be discreet, so therefore the worst-case scenarios aren't particularly alarming." Hermann stood in front of Newton, eyes searching him. "Unless of course, there's something you're afraid of touching on?"

Fortunately, it was about then that Newt was saved by the bell. The doorbell, specifically. It was Qubit, of course, standing with his hands behind his back. This was his first time visiting the new apartment, but he hadn't had any trouble finding it. Hermann seemed to like giving him coordinates rather than addresses.

Though outwardly calm, he actually found this all rather exciting. Taken individually, Newt and Hermann were both intelligent in their own rights. (Not as smart as him, of course, but that went without saying, and he didn't at all hold it against them.) But their potential together - well, that's what they were all here to find out.

Thank everything for Qubit.

He scurried away from that rather uncomfortable topic without even a forced 'No, nothing!' and hurried to the door, pulling it open without even inquiring who was there.

"Qubit, my man!" The relief in his voice was evident. "How're you?! Come in, come in! What've you got with you? Bring us cookies?" he asked, noting the hands behind his back and eager to make random conversation to distance himself from the feeling of a huge question-mark ringing in the back of his head. Who knew punctuation came with sounds and feelings? "Because damn, am I starved. Are you thirsty? Hungry? Anything I can get you before we get things underway?" There was nothing to be suspicious of in his attempt to be a good host. NOTHING AT ALL.

Hermannn frowned after Newton, suspicious and suddenly uneasy that these experiments wouldn't go as smoothly as he'd imagined. Was Newton hiding something from him?

But he pulled himself from those thoughts for their guest, moving into view with a nod of greeting and half-shrug in Newton's general direction. It was a sign of nerves that he needed to distract himself by taking on a role he never played.

"Well don't crowd him at the door, Newton. At least let the man in before you start plying the man with food."

Qubit grinned and clapped Newt on the shoulder, half out of familiarity and half to move him out of the way so he could edge inside. "Thanks, but no, I already ate," he said. You two, I swear. "I thought we'd get straight to business this time round."

His hands having moved, it was pretty clear he hadn't been hiding anything behind his back. But that didn't mean he'd come empty-handed, so to speak. Instead, he fished something out of his coat pocket - a pair of bracelet-sized apparati, matching the aesthetic of his teleportal watch but not terribly similar to it otherwise. "You still have that laptop, don't you, Hermann?" he asked.

"Business, right!" Newt let himself be nudged backwards by Qubit, standing aside so he could come into their apartment. "Well, you can't fault a man for trying--to be a good host!" He eyed the hallway as if considering a getaway before closing the door and locking it, deadbolt and all. They weren't going to want any guests for the time being.

Newt suspiciously eyed the bracelet-tech as if Qubit was suggesting a pair of handcuffs as a 'get-along shirt' kind of tactic. He was curious, though, how the bracelets would interact with something that was very clearly in their heads. "Of course he has that laptop. The nerd practically goes to bed with it. ...What're those?"

Eyeing Newton much like he'd picked up on that impulse, Hermann's cautious look morphed swiftly into a scowl.

"I do not.. sleep with it, for heaven's sake." He spared a look to Qubit and the bracelets, then turned back into the living room proper and waved his cane at the couch and armchair in an invitation to sit. "But of course I still have it."

The laptop in question was set in its usual spot, closed and charging in the spot that was more or less 'his'. Hermann checked the battery, then unplugged it and offered it to Qubit. Perhaps the one man he didn't mind handing it to, give he'd assembled it for him and certainly wouldn't do anything irreparable to it.

Probably.

"I assume you have some questions before we begin?"

"None in particular. Thank you," Qubit replied, taking the laptop and setting it up on the end table, although since he hadn't actually sat down, this just resulted in him bending over at a 90-degree angle to type. Once he'd plugged in a memory stick and gotten the client installer running, he stood and handed over the bracelets, one for each of them.

"These are esperecorders," he explained, going back to the laptop as he talked. "Another invention of mine. They record psionic transmissions, like the ones between you two, and convert them into a usable A/V stream for, say, remote monitoring, or later review."

the more you ignore me the closer I get

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