(no subject)

[shortofcrazy]

Riley is going back to DC soon. Really and truly. He's even dressed as he was -- jeans, sneakers, dark T-shirt, maroon and brown-striped shirt (left unbuttoned), and a dark brown crushed velvet blazer -- when he stepped through the door a week or two ago. He's sitting at the bar with a half-drank can of Red Bull, a folded-up pair of designer sunglasses, and a magazine opened to an article with a large picture of a red sportscar, all on the bartop beside his laptop, his eyes narrowed in concentration at the computer screen. A game of patience, this is, and skill, and more than a little luck. Riley likes to think he's got at least two of those.

Just one more game of Minesweeper, and he's gonna go.

Just one more.

Click.



Riley mutters things under his breath that are creative and unfit for young ears, and then he starts another new game.

Just one more game.

Comments

[monk-with-mask.livejournal.com]

"Daaaaa," Chichiri's possibly never going to grow entirely used to these computers, but he won't comment.

He'll just try to break Riley's concentration by prodding him. He's nice like that.

[shortofcrazy]

Riley makes a startled "Urk!" sort of noise, and accidentally hits the button, selecting a square.

The entire game's screen goes up in red x's, with a little bomb graphic at the center.

"Couldn't you say hello like a normal person?"

[monk-with-mask.livejournal.com]

"I could, no da." Chichiri shrugs. "But I preferred my method, really."

[shortofcrazy]

"Your method," says Riley longer-sufferingly, as he starts another new game, "just cost me the game, man. Your method kind of sucks."

[monk-with-mask.livejournal.com]

"Was it an especially important game, no da?"

[shortofcrazy]

"Only the fate of the world depended on it, Chichiri," he says, in a 'duh' sort of tone as he clicks a box. A number of other boxes show up, filled with green and blue numbers. (Score!)

[monk-with-mask.livejournal.com]

"You don't seem as bothered as you would be if it was that important, no da." Chichiri says, dryly.

[stopped-signal.livejournal.com]

"Ohhh, it's got you now."

Says the guy with the laptop and bag of what appears to be snack chips of some description. He has seen that look before. (Occasionally in the mirror.)

Shaking his head, "Let me know if I need to stage an intervention. Orrr, let me guess: You can quit any time you want to."

[shortofcrazy]

"Look, man, I can quit any time I want--" Riley looks up. Blinks. (He may not have connected the guy to the first night that he came here, but he remembers the laptop.) "To," he finishes lamely. "Hi. We've met, right? Guy-with-robots-and-a-moon?"

[stopped-signal.livejournal.com]

Mr. Universe blinks.

Then, slowly, he grins.

"You know ... I think we just may have." A thoughtful pause-- or at least a pause, which could be mistaken for thoughtful by the generous. "It's, uh, something R, right? Ryan, Ryle, Ringo ...? Help me out here."

[shortofcrazy]

He snorts. "I don't have the hair to be a Ringo." He looks thoughtful, too, in turn. "Ryan's not bad, though. But--" he says, and he clicks a box only to see the screen light up with death X's.

He sighs. "--It's Riley. Hey."

[stopped-signal.livejournal.com]

"Riley." Mr. Universe snaps his fingers. "Okay, okay, I was close."

He glances at the screen, smile spreading a little in the direction of smug.

"Luckily, when I miss by a syllable or two, tiny bombs don't go off all over the room. Or, who knows; they might be about to."

For a man facing imminent death by inaccuracy-triggered explosion, he doesn't look all that concerned.

[shortofcrazy]

"--If tiny bombs went off all over the room every time I forgot or mispronounced someone's name, I'd be a smoking pile of debris by now," says Riley. "A couple of times over."

He looks awfully amused by the idea, for a smoking pile of debris.

[twiceahero.livejournal.com]

"No, not that one." Barbara was rolling by, but screens tend to catch her eye. "That's a two-one-two pattern." Help offered she turns to continue on her way.

[shortofcrazy]

"--A what now?" Riley says, dumbly, and he belatedly turns to see who had spoken.

[twiceahero.livejournal.com]

"Certain numerical patterns only show up when certain mine placement patterns occur. Sometimes you can identify mine locations based on number patterns even if it appears that the mines could be found in multiple configurations. That means that," she leans over to point at the screen without quite touching it, "this pattern indicates that this square will be a mine, while this other one won't."

[shortofcrazy]

Riley stares at the wheelchair-bound woman for an unsure moment, then looks at the screen.

He clicks the square that she had indicated would be a mine.

Boom.

"...Huh," says Riley.

[twiceahero.livejournal.com]

Barbara blinks at Riley for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. "I bet you were the kid who touched the hot stove and stuck a fork in the toaster immediately after being warned about it. Just to check."

[shortofcrazy]

"Was not," says Riley, immediate but defeated as he shakes his head at the laptop. "That was my sister."

[queenofmay]

Having newly been introduce to the idea of The Net (the world, not World Wide Web), she found herself paused a foot or two behind him, watching the strange little images pop in and out.

"What is that?"

Completely distracted from her tray of matching tea set and her intention to go read by the fire.

[shortofcrazy]

"Huh? You don't know--" Riley turns around and takes in the woman's tea set and style of clothing. "--Minesweeper?" he finishes, lamely.

[queenofmay]

That deserved a raised eye brow slightly, but it wasn't a cruel expressionate, followed a deft shake of her head, though she did offer her words with doubtful hope.

"I know what mines are, but I fear our references might be far off from each other."

[shortofcrazy]

"Mines are bombs," says Riley. "Things that -- explode, when you step on them. This is a game where you try to make as many squares," he gestures at his new game, with several grayed-out squares, each with numbers in them, "come up as possible without clicking on a picture of a mine. You lose when you hit the mine."

:D?

[queenofmay]

Game, on computer, she got. The Net interaction had helped, if only a little, and made her wonder about sprites in his computer fighting against him who would die if he won the game.

She leaned a little toward him and the, still strange if not for lack of being near her recently a lot, device.

"Why are there numbers?"

[shortofcrazy]

"They tell you how many points you got for every square you clicked without blowing yourself up," he says, with a grin.