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[originallutece]

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[originallutece]

Oh.

Yes, then. You hardly have to vouch for either of them. Alan's a relatively intimate friend, and though I don't know the captain that well, I at least trust him for this.

When can you come by?

[enarms]

[ oh. interesting... ]

I'm just talking with Mr. Kirk now, I'll let you know.

[originallutece]

All right.

Answer a question for me in the meantime: is it true you had a habit of flirting with every woman you worked with?

[Yes, it's time to give John shit, but more importantly: it's time not to think about that flash of fear she'd just felt.]

[enarms]

I'm going to kill him.

[originallutece]

That isn't an answer, John.

[enarms]

No I did not.

[originallutece]

Give me a percentage. It has to be high; he told me it as a "parade of women".

[enarms]

A parade? Git.

[originallutece]

Three out of five?

[enarms]

You can sod off too.

1/2

[originallutece]

I'm simply wondering if I ought to be offended, you see, it's hard to tell unless I have a proper percentage.

[originallutece]

A /parade/ of them.

[enarms]

Rosalind, I met you at the bar of a brothel because my ferret pissed off your hippopotamus. I really don't think you need to worry as to why I didn't immediately start flirting with you.

Apart from the fact that you're terrible. Go away.

[originallutece]

Yes, but you've met me several times afterwards. These kinds of things prey on a young woman's mind.

And no, I shan't. You can't say I'm terrible as though I'm the one telling people these things. Don't shoot the messenger and all. I'm simply trying to find the truth here. I'm a scientist, after all.

[enarms]

You're a chemist. But if you and Sherlock want to form a club studying my flirting habits, more power to you. A bit weird, but it's all yours.

[ mostly because he doesn't bother these days after he largely gave up when a) his last girlfriend left him because he was a better boyfriend to his best friend and b) the last time he flirted with a female stranger she led him to rendezvous with a presumed-dead dominatrix at an abandoned power station. flirting is dangerous and banned.

although honestly, actively opening the subject is an invitation all of its own. ]

Besides, I'll bet you've heard all the lines.

[originallutece]

[What on earth is wrong with your life john]

It's not just your flirting habits we'll be studying, thank you, we're a bit more versatile than that.

Some lines. Certainly all the ones from 1886 onwards. I should think I could recite those in my sleep; they all tended to take the same pattern over time.

Shall I tell you about the time I dismissed a man with that?

[enarms]

Oh good, I'm so glad to hear it.

[ uhm, absolutely? ]

Please do.

[originallutece]

I was sixteen, home from break at university. My mother enjoyed utilizing those times to their maximum efficiency and stuffing the days full of prospective suitors, to make up for all the balls and poetry recitations and so on that I was missing while I was at Girton. It was part of our deal for letting me go off to university at all.

Well. The man she had me meet that day was . . . pleasant, I suppose. Bland. Irritatingly full of himself, not because he was clever in some way, but because he was born into a family that had a long lineage and a lot of money. Unimpressive, in other words, and I was impatient enough as it was, because I had an experiment I was eager to get back to.

He began with all the usual pleasantries, of course. "You look charming, your skin is radiant," on and on and on. You could have slotted him out with any other idiot of our class and generation, and so I stopped him before he could wast any more time.

I told that if he was so dedicated to being so stereotypical and dull, we could simply cut this short and save us both an afternoon, as I already knew what he was going to say, so there was no point in actually going through the motions. And when he sputtered and said he wasn't, that he was unique and interesting and so on, I correctly predicted that he was going to next say some insipid compliment about my hair and my name-- "Rosalind, just as pretty as a rose", as if I hadn't heard that since I turned thirteen.

Needless to say, he didn't return after that day. Which suited me just fine.

[enarms]

[ he's laUGHing. ]

Incredible take down.

[ but he's also aware of that sixteen, of the man, of the time she inhabited. and of that home from university. of course she was. of course Rosalind Lutece was a child genius, stomping all over societal bounds. ]

God knows what you'd have been like if you were born in my time.

[ probably the same but a billionaire by 12. ]

[originallutece]

God knows what you'd be like if you'd been born in mine.

Interesting to think about, isn't it? I don't remember any Watsons around, but to be fair, I never memorized Burke's Peerage.

[enarms]

I'd have been a nightmare.

[ he's self-aware enough to know that much. ]

I doubt you'd have found it in there anyway. Common, as names go.

[originallutece]

A nightmare is a bit strong. What prompts you to say that?

[enarms]

Remember my alleged parade of women and your loathed army boys?

1/2

[originallutece]

"Alleged".

[originallutece]

A nightmare if you'd tried to court me, perhaps, but it may surprise you to find men went through women just as quickly in 1887.

Besides: I might have liked you if you'd been rude. It'd be different, anyway.