Err, What?

Log Info

Title: Err, What?
Emitter: None
Characters: Sasha, Cordelia, Jerry
NPCs: None
Place: Campus, then Infirmary
Time: 6/16/10, Mid-Afternoon
Summary: Sasha searches for the Inventor she's heard about and encounters Cordelia. There is a clash of awkward proportions, some discussion of nanotech, and then further awkwardness in the Infirmary.

The cafeteria's setup allows for students to take a packed lunch away — a salad, soup, or whatever the main meal is in a disposable container, or preferably something reusable — so the tree-filled area is often used as a lunch-break spot. It's here that Cordelia Savage is sprawled, a leather-and-chrome box sitting beside her with the remnants of fried chicken, chocolate milk and an apple tucked into it. The girl herself has her goggles on, and is sprawled out on her back, holding something delicate and tiny above her to tinker with it in the midday sunshine.

To certain senses, there's a rasp on the radio bands that's centred about what the tinker's doing, but no pattern to it just yet — whatever she's messing with, it has to do with communications.

She's been told about 'the girl'. The Maker. And after a bit of asking around, Sasha got pointed out to the lawn. She comes out carrying her own haul from the cafeteria in a couple cardboard boxes, walking across the lawn towards Cordelia with no heed for paths. "Hey!" she calls, waving an arm, "Careful with that, you'll blow out everybody's TV and you know what happens if we miss Glee."

Shoulder-length blonde hair sweeps back from a widow's peak that only serves to enhance the impression of a heart-shaped face; Cordelia Savage is an interesting blend of her better-known parents. In that uncertain age bracket of fourteen to seventeen, she still has some baby fat in her cheeks, rounding what will eventually be a rather pretty face. Her eyebrows are set at a permanent quirk over eyes almost unnaturally amber-gold, framed by dark lashes, and her lips are thinner than real beauty would suggest. All told, though, she is a striking teen, slim without being lanky, and long fingers and hands hint at further growth yet to come — currently, though, she's about 5'6".

She's managed to give the Steranko Institute uniform her own flair, a somewhat tattered tan bandanna-slash-scarf thrown around her shoulders and brightening the black-on-dark-grey of the Taylor uniform. The uniform doesn't exactly suit her, emphasizing her lack of curves, but it's just going to have to work. In addition to her bandanna, she wears a pair of goggles pushed up on her forehead, green-tinted lenses staring blankly upwards, the leather straps stamped with cogs and wheels, while the goggles themselves… tick. Yes. Tick. Evidently those cogs and wheels on the leather just echo what's inside. A belt, clearly more for storage than for cinching anything, wraps lopsidedly over her hips, a holster (empty or not dependent on the situation) at one side, various shells and mysterious other miscellanea cinched here and there.

"Glrk!" The fumble's accompanied by a *squorch* of static across all the radio bands, and Cordelia sits up, blonde hair mussed by grass clippings, the odd fallen leaf, and her own general lack of concern for her day-to-day appearance (save to make sure it's suitably steampunkish). She stares bemusedly at Sasha for a moment, then down at the miniaturized communicator. "Glee ended for the summer season," the inventor points out after a moment.

She tosses the chrome-brass-and-gem communicator up in the air, then catches it, stashing it in a pouch slung from her belt, next to her ray-gun's holster. "Sasha Romanova," she says thoughtfully, regarding the girl with her odd amber-gold eyes slightly narrowed against the sun once she pushes her goggles up to her forehead. "What can I do for you?"

Sasha winces visibly at that squelch. She steps forward and drops to her knees in respsectful proximity to the other girl. "True. You think the reruns don't count?" she asks. Sasha's got a relatively sporty look going on, in a yellow sundress with the colored plates on her limbs tinted a complimentary shade. She opens up one of her boxes to reveal a tray of sushi from the cafeteria.

"Cordelia Savage," she says. "People have told me I should meet you. You're an inventor, they say."

"Not when you can quote the episode back at people," mutters Cordelia resentfully. Evidently she's not a fan of the show, but it gets played on /every single dorm's lounge/ and thus, she can't miss it. She's dressed, as ever, in steampunk fashion, bustier over a long-sleeved blue shirt despite the heat, and leather chaps over jeans, well-nicked and scored by various adventures (evidently, it's as much protection as fashion, that).

She gives Sasha a bemused look, not having missed the wince at the radio-noise. "Mm," she says noncommittally. "I'm not going to make an automatic lockpick so that you can sneak into a boy's room, if that's what you're thinking." There's a wary note in the girl's voice, as if she's gotten that request in the past.

"If I could staple their mouths shut…" Sasha mutters. She uses chopsticks to dip a piece into soy sauce and then pop it in her mouth. "Already got one," Sasha says, "Not to mention I've got a boy, and we're not really sneaking." She opens the other box, revealing cookies, and slides it towards Cordelia. "I can do some things, not at your level, though. Figured if I'm here to learn…"

"Whose mouths?" Cordelia asks with arched brows. "And congrats, I guess?" She doesn't seem all that interested in the news regarding boys, once it's evident she's not to be a part of the whole high school mating dance. The cookies, however, get a gleeful, Puckish grin as she reaches for one. "I have all these /ideas/," she admits, bright-eyed. "Schematics I still have to sketch out, ways to bleed off energy" Her free hand goes to her chest briefly. "and turn it to good use… er. But what I do is mostly magitech." She gestures at herself, then looks searchingly at Sasha, about to say more and thinking better of it, and thus popping the cookie into her mouth.

"The people quoting Glee all the time?" Sasha says, as if it were entirely obvious. "It's working for me. You know Jerry?" she asks pointedly. Sasha cracks a grin. Her intel was right. "Sounds good. And I've got this," she says. She grabs a clump of grass in her hand and holds it out. In a momentit gets covered by a silvery goo that's come up from her hand, getting rearranged and change, and falling apart in a puff of chemicals. "Think we could work together," Sasha says. "You'd be…you know, Q to my Bond."

Cordelia eyes Sasha for a moment before swallowing her cookie. "No. I can quote the entire episode back to people despite not watching the show," she corrects. At mention of Jerry, she rolls her eyes, muttering something about hormonal twits. Watching the decomposition of the grass, the tinker pushes her goggles back over her eyes. There's a click-whirr, and a thoughtful pause. "What, you want me to work on you? /That's/ a change. Normally my classmates run screaming."

"I gottchyah," Sasha says with a nod. Her look goes a bit dark. "I know he's got a rep," Sasha says, "He's a sweet guy and I've *been* with assholes before, you know. I can kick his ass if he gives me shit and he knows it. So might wanna come down off the high horse before you fall." She twiddles her cybernetic fingers for Cordelia's benefit. "I can work on a bike, do some basic mechanical stuff. Nowhere near your level, though, and I'll admit it," she says. Her head lifts to look at Cordelia's face, her brow wrinkling up along with her nose. "Just don't treat me like an experiment. PArtner, sure."

"I'm more tired of the entire ridiculous mating ritual," Cordelia says in a gentle tone, though there's steel behind it as she pushes her goggles up and gives Sasha a long, steady look from those odd amber-gold eyes. "Frankly, I'd treat it all like observing a new species if it didn't impinge upon classes and performance of project partners with the incidents; if you'll note, Miss Romanova, I said 'Congrats, I guess?' due to my own disinterest in the situation." Her tone is still gentle. "I treat everyone and everything as an experiment. It doesn't mean I ignore their essential nature, or humanity." This… may be untrue. The girl runs a hand through her hair, dislodging twigs and grass.

There is, however, a pause. "Your nanotechnology may not be compatible with my methods, though I believe I /do/ understand their function and requirements." Her hand drops to her breastbone again, just above the upper edge of her bustier. "I design and create as a way to channel energy."

Sasha has to do a double take. "Tired? You're like, my age," she says. "And when'd I stop being Sasha?" she asks. "I'm not Miss anything, except to cops." Sasha's arrest record probably isn't a good topic for the moment. "Must make you a hit with the fellas," she says dryly.

"Your energy?" Sasha asks, pointedly.

Cordelia tidies up her own lunch, inserting the various pieces — a plate, a knife and fork, and a cup — into their holding spots in her lunchbox. "When you assumed that I was specifically denigrating your boyfriend, you became Miss Romanova," she answers, still in that gentle tone. "You act like a boy's opinion of my pulchritude should matter to me."

She pushes to her feet, looking down at Sasha. "Yes, my energy."

Sasha takes another few bites of her sushi, giving Cordelia an intense look. "Look, you're not the first, okay? I'm a little touchy, so what's the big deal?" she asks. She shrugs a little. "Girls instead?" she asks. "Nothing wrong with that. Just can't believe you don't care all. I mean why else dress like that?" she asks, gesturing.

Sasha grabs her boxes and stands a few moments after Cordelia. "Convenient," she says. "I've got a series of fuel cells. Runs for a while, still gotta plug in sometimes. Might be something you could help with, see?"

"Neither," is Cordelia's still-calm response as she seals her box. She traces a finger over the boning of her bustier, then over some of the symbols upon the leather. "Because the boning is silver, with some of my energies tied into protective arrangements, and the lining is silk to further ward off harm." She meets Sasha's gaze for a moment or two, more thoughtful than annoyed. "And I dress for myself, because it is the responsibility of oneself to be presentable."

The blonde's gaze goes distant for a moment or two. "If you could convert some of your nanos into solar capacitors, you could use your skin as a solar collector," she suggests with a faint shrug. "Energy is everywhere."

"Look, I'm sorry I brought the whole thing up," Sasha says. She looks back at Cordelia, meeting her gaze, then glancing at the garment in question."Sure, okay, whatever," she says. "See," she says, "I know that, I just don't know how to *do* it. I'm not a super-tech like you. So I guess….I'm asking for some help."

That /does/ earn a faintly amused look from Cordelia, the girl shaking her head oh-so-slightly. "You're not very good at being tactful, are you?" Pot, the kettle's calling you black. She sighs and glances up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. "Do you have control over the programming, or do you have preset routines that you run?" she asks, looking back at Sasha.

Sasha has enough restraint to keep from actually answering that question, as much as part of her wants to. That would be the snappy, bitch Sasha that regular Sasha tries to leave on the track. She belongs out there, even if she tends to tag along to other parts of her life. "I do," Sasha says. "Mostly it's routines. I've been using some engineering design software to tell it how to assemble new parts. I just go through that program, I don't code it myself. I guess I could, if I knew how."

"That was the next question: if you had a pre-existing interface for your enhancements." Cordelia nods thoughtfully. "It might involve introducing a new strain of nanites to your system, with some technological modifications that they can self-replicate, if we can't program them to modify…" She trails off with a sigh, rubbing her cheek. Prickly she might be, and strange, but she /does/ actually care. And she's even toning down the mad science cackling today. "I'm pretty sure I can manage that."

Sasha takes a very slight step back from Cordelia. That's just normal movement, right? "Not sure. I mostly just tell them what to build and they do it. It's why I'm more machine girl than grey-goo-girl," she says. Clearly her technical depth is intense.

Sasha gets a distant look, then snaps back a few seconds later. "Holy shit!" she curses. "Jerry's in the infirmary! He got shot!"

"Well, if you learn more about how to program yourself, you could probably replicate a few other forms aside from a motorcycle and a weapons-array," Cordelia points out logically. There's a faint grin spreading across her face, precursor to the cheerful Mad Science! cackling, but it's the cursing that makes her pause a moment. "Okay, give me a lift to my dorm and I can fix that," she says oh-so-cheerfully.

That… generally is a warning sign, with her.

If there were more time, Sasha would point out she's gotten further on her own than just those few forms. Jerry got to see her water-test her aquadic form, after all. "Not now!" she declares. Everything else is forgotten as Sasha rushes off towards the Infirmary.

At that, Cordelia sighs and rolls her eyes, gathering up her gear and pulling her goggles over her eyes. Nope, she's not going to /run/. She's going to /fly/. Evidently, there is a reason for the embellishment on her boots: the little wings to the side flare, then catch, and the inventor zips towards the infirmary, muttering under her breath.

Infirmary - Medical Center - Steranko Institute

The Infirmary seems to be almost from a different world than the old fashioned medical center above. The walls here are, for the most part, polished stainless steel. The floors are also metal, but have a subtle texture to them that makes slipping unlikely. Small areas are set aside to the left and right of a central walkway. Some of them are partitioned off with curtains, others with glowing force fields. There's even a few metal-enclosed rooms that can be flooded or filled with exotic atmospheres or even more exotic energy fields if a patient requires it. Every bed is designed to fully monitor the health of its occupant, and sound an alert at the nurses station if their condition changes. A hallway leads off to another area, which according to rumor is either a surgery filled with futurist equipment, a cryogenic facility, or a break room where those who work here can get a quick meal and nap.

Sasha comes burstin in through the doors. She's even still carrying her food boxes from the cafeteria - sushi and cookies, the latter of which Cordelia has already availed herself. "Jerry!" Sasha calls, making straight for his bed.

Somewhere behind Sasha is Cordelia, looking much-resigned as she follows in the other girl's wake. The nurse on duty looks up, gives Cordelia's lunchbox a suspicious look, and holds out a hand. Cordelia eyes the nurse, and hands over her lunchbox with a sigh. "Geeze, you make a gunshot victim sick /once/ while dealing with the wound," she mutters, stalking past, bare-handed now.

Jerry is dozing on the bed, sensors over the head of the bed displaying his vital signs, which all look good. The hi-tech bed has no need of wires or clips to monitor many things, so he's free of things like that save for an IV in his arm. He's shirtless, left shoulder wrapped and the bandage secured around his chest as well. He starts awake with a pained 'ughlph' when he hears his name, then smiles to see who it is. "Sasha, hey," he says drowsily, still on some mild painkillers. He waves weakly to Cordy as well, giving both girls a wan smile.

Sasha comes right up to the edge of the bed. She pauses and realizes her hands are full, puts her food aside, then darts back. Her hand comes down and wraps around Jerry's nearer one. "Hey," she says, managing to smile. "So what happened?" she asks. "You gonna be okay?" She glances over at Cordelia. She did what? It was before, and clearly not Jerry, nor herself, so she's not *that* concerned.

When Sasha looks over at her, Cordelia puts on her best 'innocent' face. "I have a machine that deals with these sorts of things, but they won't let me use it," she explains simply, leaning against a nearby bed.

Jerry flashes a smile at Cordelia. "Well, they have me on regen therapy, so I should be out of here pretty quickly. Lucky the bullet missed anything vital; just went through the muscle and out the other side," he says, squeezing Sasha's hand. They got me on some sedation so I don't keep popping my force field and ripping out the IV." He gives Sasha a wry smile. "Ex of mine by the name of Carrie - appropriate name, by the way - decided she'd point out how much she was pissed off about our breakup a couple years ago." He one-shuolder shrugs. "Who knew?"

"No experiments on Jerry. Try them on somebody I don't like," Sasha says. "Like…I dunno. S……omebody. I'll get you a list later," she suggests. Sasha's hand doesn't yeild to the squeeze, though she feels it just the same. She leans in and kisses Jerry on the forehead. "Never seen you this mellow," she points out with a light smile. "Carrie?" she asks. Another glance at Cordelia, clearly questioning. "Who's Carrie? What happened?"

"It /works/," Cordelia says with just a hint of indignance. She's not qualifying that, oh no. Instead, she's just going to listen quietly, with just the faintest hint of an I-told-you-so eyeroll at Sasha at the tale.

Jerry chuckles at Cordelia. "I'm sure it does. I'm also sure you can cure it turning me purple or whatever /else/ it does," he says, clearing joking. "Yeah, 's the drugs, like I said. Carri, eh, I dated her just after I got here, when I was.. what, 14? Jeez, I didn't know mussels were shellfish, and I'd forgot anyway.." he says, head turning to one side, looking on his side table. "Could I get some water, please?" he says lazily.

Sasha shakes her head. "You wouldn't look good in purple," she says. "Well…maybe," she backpedals. "So she's a super? A student!?" she asks with some surprise. "And she shot you? That seems so…mundane," Sasha says. Her free hand pushes a little on her side, wher eher own gunshot scar is developing quite nicely. "You've tested it?" Sasha asks Cordelia skeptically.

"Yes!" Cordelia rolls her eyes at this skepticism. "For the love of Lovelace, not /everything/ I make explodes. Hardly anything of it does." With that, she sighs and turns to head out. "I'll leave you to to your billing and cooing."

Jerry shakes his head. "Nah, she goes to Cove City Central; she doesn't have any powers and doesn't know I have any, either," he says. "I knew she was pissed, but.. Jeez, she shot me. And it was /two years ago/. That's forever, man!"

"Oh. So you were slumming?" she asks. Sasha shifts her weight and looks at Cordelia, "Hey, Cordy," she asys, not even thinking to ask if that nickname is okay, "I do wanna try out some of that stuff you talked about. Catch you tomorrow or whatever? Not like you have to go but….I guess you don't like cuddly stuff much."

"Does anyone like watching it when it's not on TV and they can't put themselves in one of the partners' places?" Cordelia asks rhetorically. "Yeah, whenever you're done." She gives a backwards wave as she ascends to the upper level of the medical centre, picking up her lunchbox as she passes the nurse's station.

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