originallutece | (no subject)

They do. But my two hands would contribute less than a more pragmatic approach might.

Unless you want my physical labor as payment for recruiting you.

Only if you define the ultimate goal as repair and repair alone. I do not. As mentioned: I don't trust random workmen stomping about the place. Not to mention thieves.

Remington is too anxious to steal. Javert too honorable. And you, I can keep an eye on, light-fingered though you are.

You certainly sound confidant.

Did you really expect otherwise?

You're a scientist. It's an untested hypothesis.

I'm a genius twice your age. After a certain point, questioning if water is wet becomes redundant, no matter how clever the water itself may be, so to speak.

Yes. I've met a few individuals that fit such a description.

I've found interpreting people and interpreting data to be vastly different experiences.

I suppose we'll see. Is that an official agreement, then?

9am. I won't be late.

[9 AM, and the lab has looked better. Not by morning's light, obviously, there's really only one set of lighting around here, but still. Rough, by all accounts. A bright blue tarp stretches over the roof; the door lies yanked off its hinges, deep scratches in the wood. And inside . . .

Rosalind doesn't look too much better.

Her left eye is covered by a patch; there's a long scar running out from beneath it, over her cheek and neck, disappearing into her blouse. It's healing nicely, truthfully, but it'll take a fair bit before it's entirely gone. She holds herself more stiffly now, rigid in a way their previous conversation hadn't suggested-- though she relaxes when she sees who's approaching.]

Let's begin, shall we?

[They've met before, two memorable times at least- and she's isn't an unknown quantity out among the town. She doesn't strike him as the type to suffer ignorance if she can avoid it so he imagines she tends to her own interests first. But Bruce hasn't known her to eschew company the way he does.

When he spots her in the distance she's a rigid shape beside the door. Or rather, beside where a door should be. The paint is gouged and the roof is partially destroyed, the hinges are bent out of shape. In a way she and the lab seem to match- both survived an ordeal.

Bruce does not look worse for wear in the same way; as one of the dreamers he'd been spared the rage of the spirits. Physically. But someone he cherishes has been lost, and though Bruce is not red-eyed and teary beneath it, he's drawn and pale. His appetite barely exists and he's had no interest in sleep. His face might as well be bruised for the shadows across it. He stops walking a polite distance away, just more than arms reach, and watches her.]

What did you have in mind?

Let's start with an easy project: the door.

[Is this how doors are repaired? It is now, and any inaccuracies are my own, not Rosalinda's, so bear with me. But she's got a new door prepared, alongside some hinges, and she nods to him.]

Remove the bottom hinges from the doorframe. I'm going to nail in a new frame, screw in new hinges, and then attach a new door.

In removing the hinges, simply use this-- [she hands him a screwdriver--] --and turn them to the left until they pop out. If they give you trouble, let me know.

Understand?

[Bruce does not take the screwdriver wordlessly, but through her explanation his gaze remains not on her or her face, or even the new door. Instead he looks at the problem itself, the frame that's been removed and needs to be replaced. They'll need to fill the edges around the new piece to keep it insulated, otherwise it'll be very drafty.

He crouches down and begins working on the hinges instead, moving in short, practiced strokes.]

I'm going to finish this long before you're done with your nails.

One task at a time. You mentioned several times your obstinance; I'm not about to give you a list of tasks only to have you refuse them.

[But he's doing as she says now, which is interesting, she thinks as she gets to work. There's a surety to her movements that says she's used to building things, even if it's not doorways and rooftops. Then again, the half-built machine in back might have tipped him off for that.]

Dare I ask what made you inclined to obey for the moment?

Edited 2019-12-31 21:19 (UTC)

The spirit of cooperation?

[It's a flippant reply not thrown over his shoulder or huffed under his breath- he isn't, after all, trying to make a point nor is he skulking along. Bruce is direct when it suits him, which makes interpersonal relationships difficult even for those closest to him. But in many ways he's still the young boy that had been sitting in his father's study, face to face with a therapist as he answered I'm always honest.]

We've established that I have an ulterior motive.

[The first two screws come out, are caught in a single deft palm.]

I'm not stubborn without reason, but I don't accept things at face value. If I take issue with your instructions, I'll challenge them.

You could have saved a great deal of time if you'd just said that at the beginning, you know. All that means is that you're intelligent.

[She glances down at him for a few seconds before refocusing on her work.]

Then again, I suppose you also could have just rushed right over here the moment I asked. A great deal of people here seem to rely on the spirit of charity itself, have you noticed?

It's not unreasonable, all things considered.

[His chin lifts and Bruce pushes to his feet slowly, following with his body the line he'd made with his eyes. To the next set of screws.]

Even if we ignore what we know about human beings as social animals, the message has been made clear that we're expected to work as a unit to prevent a reset.

And yet here you stand.

[And yet here she stands, distrusting most, too wary to ever let anyone in close.]

And what do you think of the looming deadline, hm?

[It occurs to her that she doesn't know.]

Everyone has an opinion. Whether they want to scientifically build a way out or somehow forcibly rip their way free, everyone seems to know how they want to proceed. But what about you?

I believe-

[He pauses just long enough to remove the next set of screws from the wood and step back, pieces in hand.]

That I don't have enough information to have a worthwhile opinion.

[Oddly enough, she chuckles at that.]

What a politician's answer.

I didn't ask for a worthwhile answer, though. I asked for the answer you're currently leaning towards. It's a question of impulse and heart, not entirely logic.

[He hasn't agreed to or been contracted for any other tasks, and perhaps that's the reason he's stopped working entirely. Or maybe it's sheer stubbornness.]

I spend my time trying not to lean into impulse and heart.

There's enough of that going on already, don't you think?

At times.

[Why is she arguing? She absolutely agrees. But there's something about the even, measured way he answers her that makes her want to continue the conversation. Quiet fascination, perhaps. He's intelligent, and she likes pushing when someone's intelligent.]

Now, why do you? I know why I do. But it's rare for a man to do anything but shove his opinion and his emotions in everyone's face.

[A beat, and she adds:]

Go on. You know what comes next, don't you?

[A single brow lifts- not high enough to suggest a riposte, just a parry. He doesn't move to collect the new frame; it was a job she'd appointed to herself after all.]

Interesting. I've been told that stereotype applies more regularly to women.

Really.

[It might be bait, but if so, she doesn't take it. It's irritating, certainly, but not enough to prick at her, not the way something personal would.]

Do tell?

[She just offers him a shovel. Keep digging a hole, Bruce.]

[You started this conversation Rosalind, and Bruce- perpetually cagey about personal disclosures of any kind, has chosen the low hanging fruit of generalized social gendered expectations.]

I was under the impression that emotion is the antithesis of a man.

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originallutece - 2020-01-12 03:40 (UTC) - Expand