(no subject)

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

Wellard is usually very good at numbers and calculations.

However, sometimes things just do not add up. Usually it is because of something exceedingly simple that you just overlook, or a common mistake that just slipped by-

One of those must have happened somewhere. Currently he has blueprints and pages of measurements scattered all over the table, three broken pencils, and two empty coffee cups-

And Wellard is no closer to finding out where the numbers all went wrong.



[tags that are not here: Wilbur]


[running to take parents to airport- will bbl in an hour. bedtime! Will pick up tags and slowtimes tommorrow.]

Comments

[weirdwilbur.livejournal.com]

"Yew need halp thar?"

A giant of a man in a trenchcoat was looking at the broken pencils and scattered papers and now has come to the obvious conclusion.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

"That depends if you know anything about rigging." Wellard is frowning down at a list of measurements- two lists, actually. They should be adding up, and at the moment, they are not.

"Though its not based on any ship type I've read about, and quite a lot of its different. I do know what its supposed to be, though- It just isn't adding up to that on paper." He scowls, tapping the pencil on the table top.

[weirdwilbur.livejournal.com]

"Dunno about riggin'. I'm nawt bad et math, though."

Of course, Wilbur's idea of 'good at math' isn't the same as most people's. Nor is his idea of 'math', to be honest.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

In some cases, math is just math- and certainly in this case. Wellard shrugs, more to himself than anything, and after a quick moment of searching for an extra sheet of paper to copy the measurements down on, he finally looks up to who he is speaking to-

And even further up.

But a couple of blinks is all it takes for him to process Wilbur's height. (Wellard has been at Milliways for quite a while.)

"Its just the measurements from the original plans aren't adding up the same as the new measurements I took on the ship, though the ship measurements do match the plans. So, something either didn't get written down correctly, or didn't get added correctly..." He shakes his head.

[weirdwilbur.livejournal.com]

Not with Wilbur--he can find flaws in advanced theory, but he can't do long division.

"Did yew measure from the same place both times? Thar's awlways a chance thet et's relative somehow . . ."

[steelartisan]

This is a familiar kind of sight. If not one he's seen Wellard in the middle of before.

Piotr is maybe looking a little amused, as he makes his way over.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

What? A would-be perfectionist doing his best to get everything added up properly?

That does fit.

With a mutter, Wellard does glance up, and his frown fades a bit as he spots Piotr.

"'Evening, Peter."

[steelartisan]

And spreading scientific work over an entire table with lots of caffeine to fuel the perfectionism, yep.

"Good evening, Henry." Piotr is still faintly amused. "How are you today?"

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

The only small glitch in this image is that Wellard's coffee-of-choice is vanilla cappucinos. But those still have caffine in them!

"I'm doing fine, thank you." The slight emphasis there implies something else is not, however-

Odds are the 'something else' is in all the papers on the table. (Though Wellard does move some over so there is a free spot, if Piotr wishes.)

"And yourself?"

[steelartisan]

Piotr takes the invitation and settles into the seat, careful not to disturb any of the papers still scattered across the table.

"I am well."

With a nod to the papers, "Your ship?"

[madeyoudodge.livejournal.com]

"Hey!" Cathy exclaims, half-leaning on her elbow resting on the back of his chair. Her other arm is akimbo. "What'd your pencils ever do to you?"

The question is cheerful, and kind of concerned.

(And, hey, she's wearing real clothes! A short-sleeved peach top and long skinny jeans, but clothes all the same!)

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

Wellard blinks and glances back at Cathy, and after a moment his lips quirk in a slight smile.

"After much detailed questioning, it was found that the pencils did not have the answers I was looking for. Thus..." He gestures at the ones set aside.

"Hopefully your evening is going better, Miss Bloom?"

[madeyoudodge.livejournal.com]

:O! says Cathy, before she grins with a half-laugh. Straight faces are not her forte.

"Yep! Just finished a show. Is something not working on your ship?" She pulls out a chair and slides into it, tucking one of her legs under her and pulling her other leg up to lean her arm and chin on it.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

"Oh, the ship is fine." Wellard frowns, looking back down at the papers. "It is just a few things are not adding up the same way between the plans and the actual measurements."

He taps the pencil on the table top, and motions at a couple papers full of numbers.

"They are right- each measurement is what it should be. They just aren't arriving at the same result."

[madeyoudodge.livejournal.com]

"You probably dropped a number somewhere--I do that lots, when I'm not using a spreadsheet program." Cathy tilts her head at the numbers. "But if you know you have the right answer, is it still really important?"

[a1enzo]

Computers are generally better at working out what things do equal than at finding what made them not equal it, but perhaps Enzo can help anyway.

"Hey! You were at the pirate battle, weren't you?"

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

"With the water pistols and buckets?"

Numbers going awry aside, Wellard does have to grin at remembering the event, and he nods as he looks up.

"As were you, if I recall correctly."

[a1enzo]

"Uh-huh!" It took him forever to get his boogie baud down from where he left it floating in midair. "I'm Enzo Matrix."

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

Wellard nods, offering his hand. "Wellard, Henry Wellard, late of the West Indies on Earth, 1802. Quite nice to meet you, Enzo Matrix."

[a1enzo]

Enzo shakes it. "I'm from 1997. Cyberspace, but my system's in Canada."

[conglomerelda]

"Good evening, Henry!" Elda says, almost a trill. She's clearly in a good mood, wings loosely folded high on her back, tail swishing behind her as she trots up.

"How are you?"

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

"Elda!" Wellard grins- And considering the mess the numbers are in, at the moment, he is more than happy to drop the pencil on the table and stand up to meet her.

"I'm doing well, and yourself?"

[conglomerelda]

"Wonderful! What are you working on? I'm off duty, can I help?" She wraps a wing around him briefly, nudging her beak into his hair.

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

Wellard smiles, reaching up to gently run his hand through Elda's feathers.

"Well, we're just about done. The only thing left is to haul up the sails and all the rigging- and that's what I'm working on now." He makes a face, and half-turns back to the table.

"All my plans and estimates for measurements before are not adding up to the same result as the measurements from the finished ship." Wellard shakes his head. "I think I must have carried something over wrong, or just didn't add correctly. It is just finding out where the mistake was made, so it will add up rightly-"

[conglomerelda]

"Then here, let me help you! I'm not as good as some of my friends at calculations, but I can at least check through half of it for you!" She shoves him gently back toward the table.

"Do you need a break first? I see all that coffee, you could probably use some food to go with it."