maskormenacelogs | Copernican Theory and Other Such Things [OPEN]

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Copernican Theory and Other Such Things [OPEN]

WHO: Manabu, any
WHERE: Nonah, out n' about
WHEN: first days in June, GED study, bike thefts, store visits...
WHAT: Idleness is combated, lessons are studied, books are read, bikes are purchased
WARNINGS: ?

o1.
'He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent.'

Whew. That's one way to say "the detective stays laser-focused on detective skills to be a good detective." Once again, Manabu has to stop what he's doing to listen and absorb the meaning, otherwise it's just words filling his ears, completely missing the point. He's done that about three times already in this read-through, having to pause and rewind portions he zoned out of while scratching away at math problems.

This...isn't the best way to absorb as much information as fast as possible, he knows. But the math keeps his hands busy while he sits still to listen. And where he sits -- out here, a grassy patch in the park under a tree -- is change enough from an enclosed room as to combat boredom a little better, he hopes.

He sits up, gently drumming his pencil on the notebook in his lap while he considers the narration playing through the earphones. This detective guy...sure sounds like a jerk, he thinks. At least, that's the way the narrator seems to think. He fidgets and picks up the mp3 player, holding down rewind and playing it again, just in case he missed something again. All the while, he glances about the park, watching early-afternoon joggers and dog-walkers pass along, weaving around less driven folk heading to work or lunch or the like.

o2.
Eating on a shoestring budget has paid off, but only just. Manabu almost regrets quitting that mall ride gig...almost. But finally being able to pass the handful of cash he needed to score a bicycle is quite validating. See? All the nights of the Same Exact Noodle Dish have paid off!

He hums, chipper and excited at the prospect of getting anywhere faster than on foot, and walks the bike out of the shop. Once he's out of the way of other possible customers and commuters on the sidewalk, he takes a knee and sets to inspecting the chain and wheels, just to make sure everything's in proper order before heading along his way.

It's during this harmless moment that poses opportunity for a stranger in a mysterious hurry to, while running down the sidewalk and shoving people out of the way, just snatch the bike by the handlebars and race away with it, hopping on mid-sprint and making a break across a crossing. All the while, Manabu's hands nearly get run over, himself jerking backward with a yelp, and is left sprawled on the ground gobsmacked.

"...Wh--" He sits up, shaking the daze off, and starts to his feet. "Hu-he-HEY! Waitaminute-!"

Seriously?!

o3. [prompt for KANAYA]
Nonah's 'downtown' isn't the dizzying sort of metropolis Manabu's experienced before, so there's no real issues navigating. Remembering the direction address numbers rise or fall is the key -- at least until particular shops become ingrained in his memory. Right now, there's just one Manabu has in mind to memorize.

It's pretty amazing, he thinks, to know someone who's gotten so famous...He's glad Kanaya's doing well for herself. For how long it's been, for how many he knew absent, he's relieved she's still around. Some of the insight she gave on the happenings he missed makes him worry about his chances of making up for the shortcomings he was part of, but...but it's also kind of invigorating. He has a new, higher-set bar to strive for.

Shame Manabu's not the sort to really notice aesthetic, or maybe he'd see the way the storefront suits her. The way things in the windows make perfect sense, that honestly he shouldn't have needed an address to find it on his own.

"Hello," he calls absently, pushing the door open and peeking in, looking around for the familiar face.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Brendan's got his academic strengths and weaknesses. Specifically, he excels at English and is a disaster at math. Since Manabu seems more than decent at math, this means Brendan's more of a two-subject tutor, those subjects being English and history, although he's had to hit up the library regarding this place's historical differences.

Tracking Manabu down isn't hard - it's not like the guy's hiding like some people Brendan's had to look for - so without much prompting, Brendan shows up bearing a Tupperware container with a generously sized slice of blueberry pie, two cold-ish bottles of cream soda he stole from a gas station, and a backpack full of books, ready to help Manabu prep for his GED. If anyone back home knew he was friends with someone who wanted to be a cop, they'd die laughing, but Manabu's the one human being Brendan can actually see being a decent cop, at least, so long as none of the suspects flirt with him.

"Hey, Sunset," he says, loud enough to hopefully be heard over the headphones. He considers waving his hand in front of the guy's face until he remembers Manabu's power, opting instead to sit down beside him to get his attention. "I come bearing gifts and ready to bore the crap outta you with the best books the English language has to offer."

By now, diligently scratching out equations is starting to give away to poorly thought cross-hatch and scribbles in the margins. It's not...laziness, not really. At least he's paying attention to the narrator in his ears.

Brendan filling in space nearby pulls his attention; Manabu lifts his head to see him plop down next to him, timed weirdly well to the pacing of the dialogue playing. He pulls an earbud out at the greeting, himself smiling small, distractedly, more surprised by the haul of books and goods.

"Woh--wow," there's a little laugh in his breath. "How much did you pack up and bring?"

Brendan shrugs, putting one of the cream sodas by Manabu before shrugging off his backpack. "More than I need, probably. Some of these books are definitely comin' back with me. I've got library cards for three places by now and nobody's got the same selection - this is like the literary version of a buffet for me." It's a minor thing, but it's something to keep him out of another depressive spell, which these days is as high as he dares to aim.

"Besides, you can't study on an empty stomach." He looks over at the scribbles, quirking an eyebrow. "How long've you been at this today, anyway?"

"Aah," he looks down, too, at the small explosion of squiggles. "Not that long, really. I'm just not a very good study, ha..."

He shifts a little, pulling the other earbud out and turning the mp3 player off. Evidence of his distraction are put away when he flips to a clean page and notebook lifted off his lap and dropped off to the side.

"Things are easier in simulation, rather than just...sitting around trying to memorize it. After a while, it just sounds or looks like mush."

"Didn't I tell you to stop bagging on yourself? You're not a bad study, it's just a matter of how you learn. My girlfriend, she wanted to be a teacher, so she used to talk to me about how some people are visual learners and some are auditory learners, stuff like that. This isn't the right method for you. Doesn't make you dumb."

That's probably the most he's said about his girlfriend outside of the context of her death in a while. Talking about Emily in the past tense is still weird, still feels wrong, but at least he can say something. Progress is a slow, yet somehow steady, thing. He pulls a notebook of his own out of his backpack, along with a pencil. "I looked up what's usually on the GEDs here - every state is different, even back home - and made a list. What've you covered and what're you stalling on covering? The sooner you get your least favorite subject done, the better. Means you won't be dreading it the rest of the time you're working on other things."

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