Pick Up the Flaming Pieces First

[Molly Quincannon] Magnificent Mile is a fantastic place to blend in. Molly would generally not be running around outside ... well, okay, yes she would, Mirrorshades raiding her home be damned. However, all they actually had on her (thanks to a lot of fiddly geekery she'd set up years in advance) were an address that she wasn't going back to and maybe a description, which she no longer matched. She felt fairly justified in her confidence as she wanders the Mile for the bits and pieces she needs to rebuild in her new home.

So, long story short, there's a bespectacled blonde in a big puffy parka, jeans with patches on the knees and rose-printed Doc Martens, carrying a couple of good-sized shopping bags, peering in windows and contemplating coffee. She's paying attention to her surroundings, in case of spotting anyone she knows ... or people she's trying to avoid, whatever.

[[Perc + Awareness = she's not really recognisable and may have to get people's attention]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [Because life is too long to be making deadly mistakes; Perception + Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] These were rocky days in Chicago.

It was always rocky in the Windy City though, if one were to see from the perspective of a one Nathan Spriggs, former member of the Cult of Ecstasy, now his own man for what little it was worth. A man of no real renown, nor high personal expectations for such.

Really.

What he did care about, however, was the frighteningly sequential flow of events in the city that had led to a particular message on his cellphone, a message not even from the very person who had intended to get it out. That drew a certain amount of concern from an already cautious (some say paranoid) individual.

In between going out very little as of recent and always keeping a healthily paranoid approach to broad daylight and the city, Nathan has found himself less and less involved in the going-ons of the Chantry, as little concern that was to him, and the general world at large. Today he's trying to remedy that, albeit still with a healthy amount of caution to his surroundings, by going out on a (not all that) relaxing walk through the neighborhood.

A walk that very suddenly gets all his senses on overdrive as a very particular sensation, Resonance even, reaches him. Hits his senses, and his amazingly vivid memory instantly pins it. Now what do you do when someone who's dropped off the grid, save one indirect message of caution to you, suddenly pops up again? In Nathan's case, his pace comes to a grinding halt as he reorients himself in search of it's origin or at least direction...

After that, a slow approach in case it's a trap, scope out the general area at least.

[Molly Quincannon] Nathan spots her before she spots him, but she does spot him - and this time, she doesn't mistake that newness to his Resonance as something untoward. She looks in his direction, gives him a sheepish and amused kind of smile that really could only be Molly, and lifts a hand in a discreet wave. He's cautious. She doesn't blame him. She's less cautious, but she's acknowledging as best she can that, however unnecessary it is for the moment, his caution is appreciated.

[Nathan Spriggs] It takes him a split second to really recognize her, the blond hair throwing him off before his mind registers the potential necessity and factors it in for consideration when asking just how bad on a scale of 1-to-fucked was the occasion.

But he does. Just in time to not feel like he's gotten the answer, from that sheepish smile, instead of earning it too.

Molly was a hard one to deal with, Nathan doesn't rush over to check she's fine. Or scold for whatever, no doubt reckless, thing she did that caused all this. No, it took a strategic approach, a slow friendly approach. One got used to it after a while, the fact that if you scowled and scolded every time Molly did something reckless, you'd just run out of steam in about a week.

That and he's just glad she's not dead, or worse... captured. Perhaps it was his inherent blondness or the totally off look, but there was something off about her new hairstyle though.

"Hey," he says with a calm enough smile and a wave when he's near enough. "You should've called."

[Molly Quincannon] "It was on the agenda tonight," she tells him, smile and tone apologetic. "Now that I'm crashing someplace with a line I trust, anyway. I'm probably being way paranoid but better that than the alternative, huh? Besides, I'm learning caution from pros. How've you been?"

Then, with a worried frown, she asks, "Did you hear anything about Ashley? She's ... in about the same position I am right now."

[Nathan Spriggs] "I haven't heard much from anyone in general as of late," he admits, with a shrug following soon after. "She's fine, I'm sure." She wasn't an Adept for no reason, after all.

With a questioning quirk of the brow, he adds, "Where would that safe haven be, if you don't mind my asking? I can help you with hide outs if you need anything."

Nathan, after all, was a man of more hide outs than Batman himself. Possibly not Solomon, though. It remained to be seen.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's expression turns sort of rueful at that point. "I'm good, thanks. I was okay before Atlas stopped short of threatening to stuff me in a sack and press-gang me onto the good ship Lafette." Her voice is low, of course; it'll carry to Nathan but get lost in the crowd-babble. "Which is where I'm at right now. He has a point when he says that someplace that moves and is cloaked is probably the safest I'm going to get. Seriously, it's not even that bad. It's not like with Ashley, where they've got one of her names shut down. My identity is still safe for now. They've only got my place, which I bought through a shell company belonging to a digital phantasm in Mississippi, and probably a description by now. So ... y'know, safe enough. I ... got advanced warning. I figure so did she. This all stems back to what she and I pulled last month." So not anything new she's done; nothing new to scold her for. This is pre-Asylum stuff.

[Nathan Spriggs] "Ah." It's all he says, really. Not much he can add there, to process the whole information. Yes, he'd heard of the arson, probably didn't link Vanessa Novotny to Ashley McGowen however. No, those kinds of things are for people who know her better.

He's just another bystander on the sideline. Always has been, probably always will.

"Right, heard about that place--ship, never been to it or even seen it though. Which probably means it'll be pretty secure," and there's an unspoken suggestion in the midst of all those other meanings, 'in case I get caught', because that was how things were running these days. Everyone was a potential risk to everyone else.

Luckily only three people knew where he was living now, and two of them he would never expect caught. The third, standing right in front of him, seemed to have her affairs in order too. "I'm glad you avoided the worst of it. But here's not the best place to talk, who knows who's listening in indirectly or potential bugs."

[Molly Quincannon] "Well, I'm pretty sure there's options, at least for some kind of eavesdropper-free chat. Unless you're trying to get rid of me. I get that I'm not exactly the best person to be around right now." For some, this would come out in tones of self-pity. For Molly, she sounds surprisingly accepting about her role as potential pariah. "Hence the radio silence. I mean, beyond getting roomie-kid to keep you guys away. Still, I wouldn't mind company, if you can think of somewhere you figure ... quiet enough, or at least I can sweep. It's been ... kinda quiet, the last week."

Translation for the observant: it's been lonely, until recent rehoming in the Lafette. And possibly even after, depending on how deep Atlas is buried in his own projects.

[Nathan Spriggs] It actually perplexes him for a moment, how she assumed it was a potential escape from the conversation. It was such a habit of his that he almost expected it to sound like the usual business when he suggested not talking about it there...

But that's just his usual insensitive self at work apparently. "Oh no, I meant we should go some place else. Preferably less populated and/or trustworthy. The options are the House, my place if you don't mind riding shotgun in a relatively inexperienced driver's car... assuming you don't have yours anymore for safety reasons. Or, well, y'know another place of your choice if you know any."

[Molly Quincannon] Now it's Molly's turn to be taken aback. "Ditch my car? Are you kidding? I mean, okay, it's not quite the geeked-out ride it used to be, but I built that thing up from a rusted base and some spare parts when I got my license. She's not ready to be relegated to the junkyard yet." She'll give up a lot of things - home and hearth, security, whatever ... but she is not giving up her car, apparently. "But your car's probably safer, and new drivers are usually pretty safe drivers. I trust you." Then she ponders and shrugs. "Not ready for the House yet. I could show you where I'm staying - it's not like you'd be able to find it again - or your place. Frankly, anyplace that's warmer and with coffee, I'm good with."

[Nathan Spriggs] "I don't wanna impose on Atlas without his express invitation so I'll pass up on the Lafette... Hm, to the batcave it is! Closest safe place I can come up with right now."

As to her statement on drivers, he just grins.

Nathan drove like he was practicing for city-wide car chases, though. Get some live experience. He wasn't gonna mention that though, just in case. "Well, shall we go then?" If she says yes, fastforward one very speedy experience later to the warehouse.

[Nathan Spriggs] In fact, for the lulz, if it does occur.

How bad was my driving?; Dexterity + Drive]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]

[Molly Quincannon] Fast-forward one very speedy experience (during which Molly's reaction, true to the nature of the Trad Nathan left behind, was a cheerful and thrilled "Woooooooohoo! Hey, it'd really not be keeping a low profile if I pulled a Big and sat on the roof, right?" and she was probably teasing, but who knows with her?) to Nathan's place, where Molly looks the place over again, catalogues any changes and then says, "I still have to set up your security system. The scrap on the Lafette is awesome for that kind of thing."

Then, with another sheepish grin, she ruffles her hair and asks, "So ... how bad is it? I never thought of sticking with blonde and actually thought about red, but..."

[Nathan Spriggs] Fortunate for him, perhaps, that his passenger was not one to curl up and scream a shrill scream as he rushes through the traffic... They make it to the warehouse fast enough, and as for new additions, perhaps a new bookshelf or two that seems obvious to someone of Molly's memory.

That and a disassembled assault rifle on the 'living room' table, parts placed all over it in seeming chaos, though it was actually just a very intricate pattern for Nathan... in other words, only he'd be able to tell what the hell each thing actually went.

In an instant answer, Nathan answers the question with a grin and, "Really bad. Blonde doesn't seem to fit you. Intellect jokes aside. Of course, that's just me," a beat, "I'm sure others would be perfectly willing to lie otherwise!" A joke, albeit with some faint sliver of seriousness to it.

[Molly Quincannon] "Well, they do say blondes have more fun, but I'm finding not so much," is Molly's response to that, though the look on her face is chagrined and frustrated and it's clear that someone's going to be finding a bottle of dye at earliest opportunity. What colour? Who knows? In any case, she turns thoughtful for a second, then asks, "Does the same still hold if the blonde comes with the Marilyn Monroe 'Seven Year Itch' dress? I can't do the whole 'Happy Birthday Mister President' thing 'cos my singing sucks, but the subway updraft skirt thing, I could do. If it's okay that it comes with a lot of tattoos..."

Under the parka is a T-shirt that reads "It's not easy being an apostate" (it seems fitting to her; almost no one else will get it), and she looks over the new bookshelves and the disassembled assault rifle with equal interest. "Expanding your repertoire?" She looks over the bookshelves a bit more seriously than the assault rifle, however. Then she turns back to him with that sheepish look again. "Sorry. It's just nice to see new that isn't ... me being a paranoid freak or wishing I was more into biology so I could figure out for sure whether the bugs at the motel were cockroaches, really big bedbugs or some hitherto undiscovered new species."

[Nathan Spriggs] He considers that for a moment, or more likely just pretends to, because whereas she is frustrated, Nathan is more amused by this than anything. It wasn't such a huge deal in his eyes, but they'd always had dissonant values let alone the gender differences in the works. "That would be strange to see, though hearing you sing would probably be priceless...ly horrible?"

When her gaze turns to the books and rifle in turn, Nathan paces the room for a moment, taking off the black furcoat he'd had on before for the cold and throwing it on the couch without so much as a glance over. "No need to apologize, I know all too well how it can get. You will, however, soon learn that seedy hotels and motels are like Nephandic Labyrinths. They can harbor the most abominable mutants to ever grace the sight of humans. You never really get used to it."

[Molly Quincannon] Well might Nathan be amused; she's sensitive enough about her appearance as it is without Nathan actively disliking it. (Yes ... in some ways, Molly is 'such a girl'.) But thankfully, they have moved on to her singing, about which she is far, far less sensitive, as evidenced by the laugh and the comment, "Yeah, I think pricelessly horrible covers it. I'll spare your eardrums, thanks. Though I can shot fuck-off punk like a pro. It helps they can't sing either, most punkers."

When Nathan mentions the comparisons between seedy motels and Nephandic Labyrinths, Molly sort of huddles in on herself for second. She's been a lot better about mentions of ... well, that over the past few months, so he had no reason to be particularly careful about mentioning it. So something else has happened to flag it up recently, maybe. Still, she recovers quickly enough, with a weak grin and a change of subject. "Well, yeah, which is probably why it's good that Atlas got insistent about the Lafette. I think I could do without abominable mutants, thanks. It's been a serious couple of weeks even without the bugs. And I swear I am going to find out who the hell the Rogue Council is, and I will track them to where they are and then I will hug them and thank them ... and then I will kick them in the metaphoricals until they cry."

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan is, however unsensitive about certain deeper emotions, a very keenly observant person about reactions and body language. All the little tells that show in Molly when she retreats back to whatever it was. Experience has also made him a very private person however, less interested in dwelling on other's past if not for the sole reason that it gives him space to avoid being questioned about his own.

So now, besides a moment to put his hand on her shoulder in what might be either apology or comfort, he doesn't react to it. Up until she mentions the Rogue Council anyway, then he can't help but let the grin fade away just barely.

"Yeah, well... How much does anyone truly know about them? Honestly, I'm fine staying the hell away as long as they have the decency to do the same." They had enough shit to deal with from the Mirrorshades, in his opinion.

[Molly Quincannon] "Well, they're not staying the hell away from me." After a grateful little smile about the hand on the shoulder (and yes, she's happy enough not to take the subject up in any depth), she finds a chair and flumps into it with a sigh. "The Council, I mean, not the 'Shades. Though I guess the 'Shades aren't staying away from me either. It's just damn confusing, is all. First I hear about it is the Rogue Council flings a flash drive my way with ... well, you were there at the meeting, weren't you - when Ashley and I brought up that we might have taken some heat after that future-scry? So we get that, and then just over a month later, there's a brick thrown through my window saying that I was about to get hit. So I instigate exit strategy alpha and whaddya know? My place crawls an hour later. But at the same time, I keep hearing as how they guided a rabid Cultist and her cabal to some pretty atrocious acts that meant I had to play peacemaker between Ashley, one of the rabid Cultist's cabalmates and an ostracised Technocrat. I had to be the sane one. But then it turns out that it probably wasn't a Rogue Council mission at all, but a personal vendetta and I probably lost you ... how many data points back?" More sheepish smile. "Sorry. You know how I get. A lot's been happening and the name Rogue Council keeps coming into it and while I'm glad I got the warning, it's ... it's hinky. Hell, they're hinky."

[Nathan Spriggs] "Yes, well... super secret organizations tend to be that way, I've learned. Kinda like Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Or the X-Men. If you wanna go less good, KAOS." He doesn't complain about brick-flinging nonsense though, and yes... he'd heard of the video, and seen it too maybe.

So it's hard to stomach if they were involved, but it was up in the air and life was a bitch. All of them had gotten their hands dirty at some point, he was not so morally inflexible that he'd point fingers and ditch blame. The crime-born grey morality, 'there's always a reason', still remained, for whatever Solomon and Israel had taught him.

"So the question is, how're you adjusting to all this? Hunting down people aside? Take a step back from the disasters and give yourself a chance to pick up the flaming pieces first." There's a background of concern in his tone here, as he slides back into the couch rather than stay on his feet any longer.

[Molly Quincannon] Nathan's question actually manages to do what little else bar metric fucktonnes of information to be processed can do when it comes to this woman - it shuts her up and gets her thinking. In fact, she looks a little perplexed at the question - it's not as if no one ever asks (she's friends with Israel, for crying out loud), but it's been awhile.

When she comes up with an answer, it's spoken in pensive tones coloured with mild surprise. "I ... guess I'm not ... 'adjusting' at all. Or maybe it's that I'm in a constant state of adjustment and this is just one more thing. I ... miss my place. I miss Ellie. I know it's immature, but if I slow down and think about it, all I end up thinking is 'I just want to go home' ... and I can't. And it kind of sucks. But what's the point in crying over it?" Though she looks kind of like she wants to. "My own stupid fault for getting attached. So ... I'm doing really well as long as I don't stop and think."

Pulling herself together a bit, she asks, "This kind of thing ever happened to you? Or is it just something that happens to the 'curiosity killed the cat' type?"

[Nathan Spriggs] Leaning forward on the couch, he pats the cushion left of him in an unspoken invitation for her to sit down as she seems to slowly wander off into a state of sadness over the loss of a home. No, he doesn't understand it very well. Maybe now he would if it happened, but his 'home' wasn't so much a place as a small group of people.

It couldn't be destroyed by the loss of a location.

So with a quiet shake of his head and a sigh as his fingers steeple together and press against his face, Nathan answers with a calm but introspective tone, "No, I'd never had it happen. It doesn't seem like the thing I'd know of," and there's the unspoken albeit present thought of the fact that the old him would never understand such an attachment happen. Let alone let it happen. "So I can't quite imagine how it feels, but what's important is you're alive. We're all alive. What's lost you can rebuild, remake, some times even improve on. If you want, I'll help you find a new more permanent place than the Lafette? Or, if she doesn't have a solid one, a place for Ellie to reside while this blows over and you can arrange things together again?"

It's the most he can offer in way of an answer. The loss of Fiddler's had been a strange sensation but he'd gotten over it fast enough, security over attachment even now.

[Molly Quincannon] She takes the invitation readily enough and listens - she's one of those good, active listeners. She waits until he's done and then thinks over what he's said, so there's companionable silence for a moment. Then she goes about it backwards. "Ellie's okay for the time being, but I'll ask her what she wants to do long-term next time I talk to her." She winces. "Ooh. She's going to flip out, I just know it. She worries. I collect people who do the 'aggressive worrying' thing. Or maybe it's just I inspire it in the most unlikely people. Either way ... as for me, I think I'm going to try something different - sit tight and think about what I plan to do before I actually make a decision. Y'know, instead of just doing what seems like a good idea in a fit of unanalysed inspiration. I might decide to stay on the Lafette - since Henri left, it's probably been really lonely and quiet for him, and I've had a pretty scary first-hand look at what happens when people don't pay attention to their cabalmates. But if I do decide to move into my own place ... you'll be the first person I call, promise. Though there might have to be a bit of a walk-through. I go about buying my clandestine property a little differently than you do, I think." Ah, the mischief is back. It never goes far and it never stays away long.

Then she focuses on the rest. "Yeah, I know that a building is a lot more easily replaced than a life. But ... well, maybe it's that ... people are like precious gems, and places that you've seen them, interacted with them ... they're like the setting that brings out different facets to the preciousness of them. So it's not the concrete that I mourn; it's a loss of the tangible reminder of the memories. I guess it sounds weird, with a memory like mine, but ... I like looking at ... Israel's favourite chair. Ellie's chosen beanbag. That spot by the door that you generally sort of lurk in. But then again ... a place that Chuck has never been and will never go." Her smile is almost beatific at that. "Maybe it's worth it, this mess, just for that alone."

[Nathan Spriggs] "Aha, fair enough." He says with the biggest smile he can manage, he too understands the importance of keeping memories alive ironically enough. Perhaps it is by the very same nature of their ability to remember that they like keeping mementos. His knife, for one, the one that he'd used to stab himself in what had turned out to be a Seeking.

When you had everything you needed, you always wanted more.

"But I guess that's part of life too, the need to understand how precious the moments we live in are. The fact that we can always create new ones as long as we're alive," yes, this is Nathan Spriggs actually talking semi-sensitively for once, "It makes you appreciate the intricacies of our Sphere, doesn't it? The little things about it. Learn to respect it." He still considers it 'their' Sphere rather than 'your Tradition's'.

[Molly Quincannon] That, too, gets some significant thought, and then she nods. "I ... guess it does." It's slow, but not doubtful - more something sinking in. "I think that's something that only sort of lurks at the back of the desperately-needs-a-defrag mess I call a brain. Time's ... always been something that kind of fascinated me. Probably why I got into physics. I mean, I've always known what time it was, to the second - but that's never stopped how time seems to go faster or slower depending on all kinds of things. Relativity on a whole other scale. Like how a boring history class can seem to last hours, but start work on a new bit of code, and you look up five minutes later and six hours just blew by. I get scientifically how time's supposed to work, but it doesn't, and sometimes it's like it has a mind of its own. I'd like to understand it beyond 'a wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey thing', y'know?"

Then she looks at him, curious. "Didn't know you'd given it all that much thought, though. I thought you were more interested in Prime. What are your thoughts on it? Time, I mean; in the abstract."

[Nathan Spriggs] "Hm. Well, it's all important to me, Time is no exception. Hell, arguably in the tops. It all goes together, doesn't it? Time, Prime, Correspondence, the wide view. Like watching the ground from an airplane, everything else just turns into little specks in the distance, not quite gone but not fully in view anymore. Time is... well, fuck all your science-y mind-blogging views on this stuff, first of all. No offense to you or anything, but I figure it all went out the window the moment we could alter the universe to suit our whims," he says first with a lighthearted chuckle and a wave. Then he's getting up from a couch without a single word more and pouring himself a glass of lukewarm water.

"Want something?" Whatever she answers, and if it's a yes and he has it, he comes back to the couch shortly after. With drinks in hand or just his own, though he doesn't drink from it yet.

No, he stared at it for a moment in silence, a large clear glass of water almost full to the brim. "Time is like an infinite ocean... People, their lives, experiences, every single thing that composes the world we know, it's like a ripple," and here he shakes the glass slightly to create some on the surface as if to illustrate. "It's this infinite thing that we can't even begin to imagine, but it's not time that moves, not time that goes forward. It's us and our awareness. Like ripples in the water, we go further and further away from the source with every moment, and the further away, the more we feel like we've changed and time's passed. But it hasn't. That's why we Time Mages, Seers as some would call it, can throw our awareness back to where the ripples once were and track back the awareness of others, locating where they'd been at one point. Or try and see through the murk, guessing and trying to see the conditions necessary to be on the exact spot where it'll move to soon. It's why we can tell exactly where we're located at that very moment and feel 'time' with such accuracy. Why, with enough practice and Enlightenment, we can even push our 'ripple' forward or even force it back a short time. You hear it from those who have experience in it, how it's so easy to scry back but not forward, and yet moving forward is easier than moving backwards. The ripple's passed, the current pushes us forward not back, you have to exert much more effort to go against it than to ride it along to where it'd take you anyway."
And with that, he quiets down and looks at Molly, curious as to what she'll say. Perhaps he's expecting some give or take, or just a reaction to his words.

[Molly Quincannon] Coffee is always good if he has it; water'll do if he doesn't. The request for it comes after the raised eyebrow and little smirk at the 'fuck all your sciencey mind-blogging views'. Maybe she's offended, but at least it comes doled out with a fair chunk of amusement.

She listens to the rest, careful as ever, and then nods. "Well ... that's kind of what my ... 'sciencey mind-blogging views' were trying to say, so you know. The more aware you are of time, the slower it seems to move, yeah? And how are you more aware of time than those times that you really desperately want to be somewhere else? By the same token, if you're really focused on something, you don't notice time passing and it takes a second for your awareness to catch up with the 'now'. There's a whole lot of science babble about time - what it is, how it works - but all it really does, all the science, is set up a system of measurements to hammer consensus into the shape of 'time passes and is gone'. And let's face it - even that doesn't work. How many people have claimed to have a flash of awareness from one of those forward-ripples you were talking about - I'm not talking mages or even anyone with any kind of power at all, but your average Sleeper who cancels an airplane trip and the plane goes down somewhere and kills everyone on board? Or even something so simple as deja vu? For all I can talk science about time until the cows come home, in the end, it all boils down to time being one of those things that the more you get into it on an analytical scale, the more you realise it's not really all that cut and dried. Consensus gets proven wrong all over the place, with time."

After a brief thoughtful pause, she adds, "That's where people - Technocracy and Sleepers and Mages alike - get it wrong, you know. I mean, there are subatomic particles that you can tell where they are or how fast they're moving, but never both, which kind of makes actual matters of locations in space as a solid fact a fallacy at best. There's Correspondence in a nutshell - it's all about perception. Time, Forces, Matter ... study deep enough and all it goes to prove is that if you have the will, anything's possible. Thing is, once I found that out ... all I ended up doing was going, '...Okay; science knows nothing, and freely admits that it knows nothing and is just feeding people vague generalities so people can sleep at night without making up a whole new slew of thunder gods or something. All I have to do is want to bend the rules'. So I do. There it is." She grins a little. "Science, when studied deep enough, is actually really great for proving that there are no rules unless you believe there are rules."
[Nathan Spriggs] This is how misunderstandings happens, or perhaps he just walked straight into this one by vagueness and wrong wording. Either way, it had not completely been his point. Not this way, anyway. Better to do damage control.

"Okay, I accept all that. But, I need to clarify and clear the air, what I meant when I said fuck science-y views, I didn't mean yours or anyone else's, sorry. Every view is it's own law unto itself, there is no such thing as a correct or better point of view. I meant general science. Sleeper science. I don't give a damn about subatomic particles, I know how it works because I know how it works, not because any school book taught me. Experience, Enlightenment. Potatoe, potatoh. That last part you said is roughly what I meant so sorry for misunderstandings," because yes, he can tell this went out wrong in general.

"We are no longer bound by any rules because we know there aren't. There's Paradox sure, but even that's not a rule, that's just an effect to our cause. Or at least not rules in the normal sense, things move forward and in doing so lean towards chaos and decay, Time and Entropy walk hand in hand. Everyone pays some time, nothing last forever."

[Molly Quincannon] For the record, Molly hadn't been particularly offended. Amused, more like. "Oh, yeah, I get that. That's just the difference between how different people know what they know. You're content to let some things be a mystery - or maybe it's just that you're more the big-picture guy. Either way, you know what you know and that's good enough. I'm different. I like to dig into things all the way down. And a part of that is ... well, kind of understanding how and why consensus works the way it does, why people believe what they do; how they're so damn sure that they know when the more I learn, the more I figure out the less anyone really knows except by sheer ... belief in the people with letters after their name, who only give the basics 'cos people tend to freak out when the bigwigs they've given their lives to can only say 'we don't know and it's all kind of vague'."

Then she grins. "The thing I like best is the fact that between the two of us - me with the overanalytical, you with the 'you just know' - both came to the same conclusions. Science knows jack and should be treated with ... okay, maybe not contempt, but certainly a grain of salt or five. So stop apologising; you didn't offend me. It's all a matter of wavelength and communication. And believe me, if I can get through Ashley-lectures without burning something down, you're not going to offend me just by having a different view or saying 'fuck science'. I bet you could have a really awesome dirty weekend with science, though. If you're big on corrupting the innocent. I bet science has hidden kink."

[Nathan Spriggs] With a smirk and a half amused-half curious quirk of the brow, he replies, "Oh? Is 'heat the Erlenmeyer flask with the Bunsen burner' become a euphemism then? Now you have me all curious, but you might know more about the hidden kinks of science than an ignorant peasant such as I."

A beat and an almost complete change of expressions to some much more serious. "Ashley-lectures aren't that bad, are they? I never particularly minded them in the learning-side of the spectrum. But yeah, though I think," and this is why he's such a complex person to deal with some times, "I'm not just about the at-large, I admit. Isn't that why I constantly search and learn?"

The way he says is seems questioning in it's own way, it's such a reflexive thing that he hasn't wondered about a deeper meaning in... ever. It just was something he did.

[Molly Quincannon] The bit about euphemisms and science's hidden kinks gets a laugh; clearly, Molly's pleased he's going with the joke. "Well, come on; it'd be an awesome euphemism. There are a lot of awesome euphemisms in science. You could probably do a five minute comedy routine on the hadron collider. Anything else one could do on the hadron collider is probably best left to the imagination, though."

Back on serious topics, Molly shrugs. "The learning side of the spectrum? When we're talking about some things, it works out fine. More esoteric stuff ... well, not so bad depending on mood and circumstance. But it's still never going to be fun being told my paradigm is cheap and my Trad values don't matter worth a damn. Anything political ... I really don't want to go there today. Suffice to say we've had some really good conversations but lately it's more been things that have come down to yelling matches. Maybe things'll settle down, I dunno."

Which is the point at which Molly takes it off a personal footing and gets back to the question. "Well ... no, not really. You constantly search and learn but ... it's like what you said about Spheres. I want to pick one to really sink my teeth into - to learn all about. When I've pushed that to its limits, then I can focus on something else. Your view struck me as 'learn 'em all now, specialise and improve later'. Which isn't a bad way of going about things, but depth doesn't seem as important to you as ... bredth, from where I'm standing. And in a way, I kind of envy you. You want to know a lot of stuff, which is difficult if you can't balance how much you learn with how deep you study it, which you can. I want to know everything about everything, so I have to choose between depth and bredth a lot."

[Nathan Spriggs] "Fair enough, and I get you. It's a truly valid point, but I think it's also somewhat limiting. My approach and yours both, you're too busy looking for the little stuff to stare at what's right in your face, and... perhaps that's why you've never seen your Avatar? In my case, I spend so much time on the big picture that I become stumped and unable to enjoy the little things, always planning ahead. I plan to change though, I am going to change."

Learning to let go was a hard and slow process, but one he'd accomplish nonetheless.

On a more lighthearted note this time, "But what exactly is a hadron collider? And what could one do, you keep being vague and leaving me to my imagination on this."

[Molly Quincannon] "What, I can't see the forest not so much for the trees but because I'm too busy analysing the bark?" She smiles. "Yeah, I get you. And maybe that is why I haven't seen my Avatar. But on the other hand, I've had a few changes there myself. Like I say, I have to choose between depth and bredth, and lately it's been bredth. Or ... not even that - my approach to what I learn and how deep that goes is more ... pragmatic, maybe? Less about what I want personally and more about what's going to do the most long-run good. We're kind of on opposite poles, there; you always want to plan things ahead, and I fly way too much by the seat of my pants. It's why we get along so well. We play both ends to a middle, and learn a little something about where a balance can be found in the process. And hey, we're both learning," she assures him with a smile. "I have contingency plans, and you invite people to your home on short notice. It's a start."

The bit about the hadron collider gets a disbelieving sort of look, though the smile's still there. "What, you missed the news bulletins a few years back? Back in 2008, the Large Hadron Collider was coming online and everyone was afraid that it'd end the world or something. Big scientific community anticlimax a la Y2K bug. Basically it's designed to shoot opposing particle beams at each other to test a bunch of high-energy physics theories. Soooooooo many scientists still dancing on the heads of pins about the results ... mostly because they only really got the thing working last year, despite all the hoopla in oh-eight. Of course, that's because there was a fault nine days after it got started. So ... in an ex-kay-cee-dee kind of way, you could make a lot of running gags about big metal tubes and particles therein and beams a-shooting and all sorts. And what's wrong with your imagination? Or is it just that geeky innuendo sort of goes over your head? 'Cos there are other ways," she goes on, musing. "I knew a guy who did innuendo with mad libs. You know, 'I'd like to verb your adjective noun'?"

[Nathan Spriggs] The part on innuendo with mad libs earn a grin, before he shakes his head, "Nah, my imagination is just fine. If not a bit under used for anything that isn't strategic precision and split-second action-reactions."

"Well, that sounds like an amazingly interesting topic to discuss, this Collider. But no. Let's not go there, I don't have enough caffeine in my bloodstream." Her assurance earns a smile in response to her own though, as he adds, "Yeah, I should remember not to leave the rifle disassembled next time I have people over. Who knows when you'll need to 'bust a cap' to use Ebonics."

"So, soul-searching and proverbial bark-examination aside, I don't think you ever told me what you've been up to in your downtime as far as relieving the pent up boredom and lack of human contact goes? I'm sure you had to find something on the good doctor's ship to keep you occupied."

[Molly Quincannon] The grin he gives him when he talks about the predominant uses to which his imagination is put, and how underused it is in other places, is mischief incarnate. "Well. We're going to have to do something about that, aren't we? Like, leaving you wondering exactly what I mean when I mention that I can currently verb an adjective noun for plural-noun with my adjective adverbing noun."

And yes, she leaves it at that. For now, anyway.

After all, there are projects to discuss, and Molly lights up in an entirely different way; from mischief to that mad-scientist gleam that's reminiscent of a Henri Bean with (marginally, and getting better) more self-control. "Well, it's not like I've been entirely without company. I mean, it's not like Atlas never comes out and I find new and interesting ways to drag him out of his lab for meals all the time. Actually, the real lonely and boredom came in Motel Yick, and the last couple of days has been trying to make sure the ferrets are contained. I mean, the orchid was easy--" (Yes, Molly brought a potted orchid on the run with her. But then, Nathan may remember that it was a gift from Israel some months ago. Molly shows sentiment sometimes.) "--but I had to start right away on the building of a new habitat for Neal and Hardison 'cos they can't have run of the ship, and there are bits and pieces that make it more a learning device and real labyrinth than just a series of tubes. See--"

For the next little while, Molly describes her 'downtime' in varying degrees of detail, sometimes backing up for clarification and, of course, asking what Nathan's been up to. Thankfully (possibly for her and Nathan both), she's got that particularly good time sense to tell her mid-run-on sentence that if she doesn't head back for the Lafette soon, Atlas will send out search parties. Still, she departs with assurances that she'll be in touch and "You can call, you know. My line's secure as anything." And gives him a quick kiss as she leaves him to reassemble his rifle or contemplate what the mad libs meant.