milliways_bar | (no subject)

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He isn't going to keep carrying around Baby's inert mobile forever. That'd just be morbid.

But he tried keeping it in his room upstairs, and that's worse somehow. It looks like a toy, sitting there. Like nothing that was ever really important.

So he's bringing it downstairs to try to find somewhere better to keep it. Maybe a shrine over the bar, like the memorial for Bernard and Tonks, if Bar herself wouldn't find that too painful. Or maybe in the Security office, in a storage closet there or something, so that if Baby ever -- if she ever does come back --

Right now Andrew's sitting by the fireplace, watching the fish swim in and out of the flames, with a mug of Irish coffee in his hand and a little metallic arachnoid in his lap.

Botherable.

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"Well, hey, lead the way, then."

He picks himself up from the couch, tucks the arachnoid under one arm, and leads the way.

The cells are pretty empty today.

Epimetheus, having slung his guitar onto his back, wanders in with his hands in his pockets and whistles softly.

"Nice digs."

Ava, personally, is frankly astonished she's never been locked up in here.

(Not that she needs that to change.)

She hangs on to the paradoxes for the time being.

Edited 2012-03-14 02:18 (UTC)

"Do you need to see the spell schematic?"

He's trying hard not to hope. It isn't working.

"Naah. Like I said, not big on magic."

He takes off the guitar and sets it down, then wanders further into the offices.

"Does she . . ." He waves one large hand. "Live anywhere specific?"

"All through here," he says, looking up at the walls. "She's ... the whole office."

"Oookay," Epimetheus says, cracking his knuckles.

His wanderings take him over to a wall. He closes his eyes, reaches out a hand, and strokes his fingers over the surface.

(let me distribute)

It's been a long, long time since he created anything. That's not what this is, but it takes a similar sort of skill -- looking for something in the solid surface that he could have put in there, once upon a time.

Outwardly, it doesn't look like much. It isn't much, in the end. He taps his fingers on the wall a couple of times and frowns.

Ava watches him do this for a moment.

And glances sidelong to Andrew.

He looks back at her.

Is this stupid?

Ava shrugs.

And points to the basket, for want one?

He shrugs back, and takes one.

Epimetheus opens his eyes, blinking.

"Huh."

His attention snaps back to the taller man. "Huh what?"

"Damnedest thing," Epimetheus mutters.

"She's definitely alive, she's just -- not here. Very weird"

Ava glances to Andrew, sharply this time.

If this guy is pulling their legs, and she ends up having to mop up Andrew's tears and hug him or some shit, she's eviscerating him and his guitar.

He's gone pale.

"Not here? Not here like how?"

"She's somewhere else."

Epimetheus glances over at Andrew, frowning; his expression softens a little when he sees Andrew's face.

"Sorry, man, I can't really tell you more than that. It's like -- the lights are on and nobody's home, but the screen door is still swinging."

Beat.

"So, like ..." Doubtfully. "Like someone just left?"

"... So she really is in a coma," Ava says.

"Only there's no ... IV drips, or nurses, or ..."

She pauses.

"Hey, I hate to be the jerk here, but ... can I ask what your credentials are, to be making the call like this?"

"Oh." Epimetheus waves a hand. "I'm a Titan. I made animals. You probably haven't heard of me."

His eyes widen.

"Epimetheus," he says, with a tolerable attempt at Greek pronunciation.

Ava glances to Andrew, blinking despairingly.

"You know everything."

"--Oh, hey, you've heard of me."

Epimetheus is slightly unnerved!

He shakes his head, dismissing that. "So that's what you meant when you said you understand different forms of life? Because you've created some?"