[open]

[biomechatronic]

Who: Dennett Norton and OPEN
What: Unhappy nerd exploring the Capitol after his first inauspicious Arena death
Where: Mostly District 1
When: Nowish
Warnings: none I can think of.

Dennett had thought that the last week back home had been the worst week of his life: he'd testified before Congress, and had gone from a private citizen to the target of a firestorm of controversy. Controversy he fully deserved. He'd told himself, when it happened, 'nine days' wonder'--that they would move on to something else, some new scandal, some new controversy. It hadn't been nine days so he didn't know if that was true. Instead he'd woken up here, thrown into some gladiatorial death match...thing. And now here, in a place that looks like it should be hosting a chess competition. Or an old tuberculosis sanatorium. It was so far removed from the brutality of the Arena that it hurt his head to try to think about it.

1

The boardwalk shops cast garish light through the gathering evening, filled with trinkets like souvenirs, everything but shells with googly eyes glued to them. Who would want souvenirs of this place? And did that mean he could go somewhere else, like home?

He was pondering that latter as he turned off the boardwalk, up the road that led to the hotel(?) where he was staying, when a snowball smacked into the back of his head, followed by fast footsteps pounding into the shadows. And Dennett is not going to take this anymore: he runs--as fast as his middle-aged softness will let him--following the sound. "Come back here!"

2

He's never been a fan of rumors, but after meeting Clara--painfully--he'd kept his ears open. Alex was here. That was beyond doubt. Which was bad enough, but the other rumors were even worse. And he didn't want confirmation but, well, he'd run away before. And he owed Alex, whether Alex knew it or not.

He talks to anyone who makes eye contact, and even a few who assiduously try not to. This is important: comfort zone be damned.

"Yes. Please. Alex Murphy. He's...quite tall. Have you heard anything, please? Where I could find him?" He just hopes Alex doesn't slap him, too, when he finds him.

3

He's at the training area, but he's not training. This isn't him. He can't do this. He doesn't even know what half this stuff is for! But still, they seem to expect him to 'train', and he doesn't need psychic powers to deduce they were disappointed with his 'performance'. So he's here, but he's watching, instead, looking about as lost and uncomfortable as you could imagine.  "I..there has to be another way.".

Comments

[biomechatronic]

Dennett wouldn't find the color a useful, necessary or even desirable addition. What was wrong with his plain, chrome and white color scheme?

Everyone was a critic.

"Yes, well, mostly familiar." It could do without the Yankee Candle chic. He steps closer, examining the cradle, checking the connectors, where they'd attach to Alex's neck. "But this is good news, Alex. This...this we can work with!" He wouldn't have to re-invent the proverbial wheel, at any rate.

[yourmove]

"What do you mean?" Alex tries not to let his hopes up. He's pretty sure whatever the doctor says, it won't be something like we'll wean you off this, no problem.

[biomechatronic]

"It means you won't starve, well, once we get it working again." Surely that's good news. "And with any luck, I can use it to monitor your other systems, those error messages you're getting." You are a mechanical problem, Alex Murphy, the first almost-familiar thing Dennett's encountered since arriving. He perhaps can't be blamed--too much--for throwing himself headlong into problem solving, even with a little loss to, well, bedside manner.

[yourmove]

Okay, so they're feeding him through that. How they do it, he doesn't want to know. He's never awake for it and the idea of them tubing up his body while he's unconscious skeeves him the hell out. Alex keeps his face as blank as he can before he says something he'll regret.

"I doubt they'll let you lug this thing into the arena, doctor," Alex feels like he needs to bust Norton's bubble. But at least he'll fix the annoying error messages, so there's that, at least.

[biomechatronic]

Dennett would gladly explain how the whole system works, but even he's cottoned onto the fact that Now May Not Be the Right Time.

He does look aghast at the suggestion. "I should hope not. It needs to stay here, where it's safe. The damage some of those...savages could do to it--!" Alex may be well armored--the cradle is not.

[yourmove]

Alex closes his eyes before he loses his cool and blows up at Dr. Norton. This right here? This is why he doesn't like to hang around the tech guys - they can't see the forest for the trees, they miss the point that it's not the damn rack he should be worried about getting damaged and Alex really, really doesn't care how much it costs. Or how cool it is to a science geek.

"So how do I eat in the Arena? Can you figure something portable?" Alex steers the conversation away from the cradle, although he can't help shooting a sidelong stare at it.

[biomechatronic]

But trees are important, Alex! All those details, all those little functions and mechanisms--someone has to think of each of them to get them working at all.

"I..don't know. I mean, how long do those things last? I suppose I could find some way to create a sort of autoinjector..." Case in point right now, Alex, the science geek getting all hung up on details. Because you asked.

[yourmove]

"I started feeling some effects after the first few days," Alex doesn't like to think about it. He'd gone through a mental list of all the ways he could die on the job - ratted out for being a cop, car crash, domestic disturbance gone wrong - but somehow starving to death hadn't on there. "Seriously, anything would help."

He's admittedly not sure where the auto-injector would go though. Not exactly a vein to go into.

[biomechatronic]

Excuse the look, Alex, this is Dennett's 'looking at you like a mechanical problem he's going to solve' look. It does mean he's pondering solutions. In theory, there's circulation in his hand--his human hand. That's a possibility, on the off chance he can't convince Alex to stab himself in the neck.

"A few days. All right, that gives us something to work with." He reaches out, touching the mechanical arm. "We'll work something out, Alex. I promise." Because he's so good with promises.

Thread end?

[yourmove]

It's a look Alex feels he could go with out. But he's assuming he's in good hands and according to both the doctor and Clara, he could be a lot worse off. (Although if you ask him, he's not sure this is a step up above the alternative).

To his credit, he doesn't flinch or jerk his arm back. He can't feel the touch, although his HUD seems to be able to sense it's there, Alex looking down at Norton's hands, long fingers that say surgeon and/or artist, then back up at his face.

"Okay. Okay, yeah." Alex needs some (more) time to adjust. He'd been really hoping the expert here could get him out of this rig, not just fine-tune it. "I appreciate it."