lingeringlegacy | 04 ☆ Exceeding theoretical boundaries

Nostalgia?

Or maybe it's the fact that running around and climbing on brightly colored plastic or wooden pirate ships never quite loses its appeal.

Edited 2010-09-24 03:50 (UTC)

Even in a place where we forget?

And even when you get stuck due to improper usage?

We may not remember exact instances, but it's hard to deny the feeling of nostalgia has a tendency to pop up when we least expect it.

I've not had the unique pleasure of getting stuck, and don't plan on it. But I could probably get hours of fun out of laughing at someone who did.

Edited 2010-09-24 04:00 (UTC)

So you felt nostalgic seeing the playground too, Gene?

[In other words: Even if you were from my world, you are a human, with memories of childhood?]

Sort of. I'm pretty sure I don't know the exact place, but the idea of it seemed familiar. Swing sets and jungle gyms and the like.

I can't ~~reme~~ really imagine adult you getting excited about playing with swing sets, to be honest.

No, I don't think excited would be the word for it. Curious might be more appropriate, since I couldn't quite resist checking out the pirate ship.

What is the difference between pirate ship and a normal ship?

Snazzy flags that have a skull and crossbones. Possibly a plank to walk.

But if pirates carry a conspicuous flag, surely the Coast Guard will have an easier time doing raids. I wouldn't do that if I were a pirate.

The sneaky pirates don't put the flags up until they're right up on the victims. The ones that ride around with it in full view get what's coming to them.

[Totally making this up as he goes, now.]

Then what would they do if the victims turned out to be fellow pirates-in-disguise?

Keel haul them anyway. No mercy or allegiance for anyone but your fellow crew members. Arrghh and whatnot.

I hope you were never a pirate, Gene, because it seems you would have been a menace to society.

You say that like I'm not already.

Have I been given a false presentation all along?

Well, you never can tell here. Things are always more than they seem.

Ah, speaking of that. I think I'd like to pop by your work and talk about something.

Sure thing. I should be there for most of the day, so feel free to come by any time.

((ooc: Do you want to do a formal log or a quicklog?))

Edited 2010-09-24 05:39 (UTC)

Would lunchtime be fine? I can get something for you from the Bazaar if you haven't got lunch.

[Would ttly cook something if it was more planned.]

[ooc: Quicklog please /lazy]

Lunch break works for me. And you don't have to get anything, but if it's on your way then I'll pay you back when we meet up.

[We shall commence to quiclogging, then!]

[The next day Gene made sure to gravitate towards the elevator around noon. He kind of hated to just stand around idle, so he pulled a beaten up card table close to the lift and busied himself by tinkering with mechanical fan he had found in pieces that morning.]

[Come to think of it, this would be Stellaris' first visit to the Scavenger's Yard. From all things she had heard about it, she expected piles of junk, dust and rusty metal, and hence the outfit she wore to work that morning —grey corduroy trousers, white turtleneck, sky blue cardigan and her trusty walking boots— pretty much covered all but her head and hands.

Come to think of it as well, she had forgotten to ask what Gene might like for lunch. Hence in the restaurant she had gone for the stereotypical based on his accent and picked what menu of the day with potato in it, plus sausages.

Packed lunch in one hand, cloth bag with her journal in another, she stepped out of the elevator on 5th floor. It was not very hard to find him, apparently focused on the parts on his table.]

Fixing something?

[If he knew that what she had picked out was based largely on his accent and origins, he would be terribly amused. That said, the choice she made was a good one.

When he heard a familiar voice Gene blinked, looking up at the source.]

Hey there. Yeah, thought I'd get a bit of repair work done.

[By this point he'd gotten most of the mechanical bits in the base together, he just needed to put the paneling back on and reattach the blades and guard. Figuring no one would bother his little project he rested it on the card table and pulled it farther out of the way of traffic.]

Care to take a bit of a walk before starting in on lunch?

[He had no idea what it was she wanted to address, but he generally felt more comfortable not talking about things in the open. That, and he knew of a relatively clean, unburied car in the Scavenger's Yard that would offer decent seating for their meal.]

Do all Scavengers do your own repairs? [Fred seemed to, but the other person... Aniki, didn't sound very convincing.]

Sure. [She nodded. She was not quite sure where to begin. She had a lot of ideas, and things about herself she found out since their last meeting in the party, but she wasn't sure about revealing everything yet, even to Gene. The stalling was not entirely unwelcomed.]

Ah, I hope you like potato gratin and sausages. I forgot to ask yesterday.

I think most do at least some repair. Our expertise tends to span the board, though. So if one of us doesn't know how to fix something we can ask a co-worker for input. If that doesn't work, we tend to try to sell the parts to tradespeople and see if they can do anything with it.

[He tucked his hands into the pockets of his long khaki coat as they strolled between stacks of towering junk. In this section there was a mountain of terribly abused office equipment on one side, consisting of ancient copy and fax machines that had seen better days. On the other side of their path were brightly coloured kids' toys such as plastic playhouses and miniature tricycles all stacked haphazardly.]

That sounds perfectly fine. How much do I owe you, by the way?

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journal to quicklog

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