milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Elle enters through the front door today, her shoulder-length hair is rather messy and disheveled again, but her stance is loose, and her steps swing with a childish sort of way, like she's half-dancing to some silent rhythm. Today, she has on black slacks and a dark blue sleeveless top, as well as small earrings, studs with steel backs and light blue gems, the product of some of her fellows' late-night messing with their powers.

Without pause, she heads to the bar, not paying too much attention to the room's current decor, until she has swipe a few Legos from her stool and place them on the bar top instead. She's just about to order some coffee when the vidscreen comes up.

Elle had always ignored it before. But she was different now, and maybe unfortunately for her, in this moment, she'd let that part of her that was still incurably curious about the world take over her mind. So she stares down at the screen for quite a while, no outward indication of what she must be thinking.

(Really, it's something like: I wonder what happens if…)

And then, she reaches out, and touches the screen.

A moment later, Elle is gone.

[OOC: Plot-locked, because we're being weirdos. Sorry!]

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The discomfiting thing, X finds, making her way into the bar proper, is that Elle's scent-trail is clearly present --

But upon reaching her friend's last known location, that scent is abruptly gone.

X frowns.

Something is very wrong.

Or is it?

Almost as soon as X arrives at the bar, a note materializes on its surface.

Inside, in typed lettering -

X,

Come to the garage. Please.

- L

The lack of information does not make X's frown grow any larger.

(Maybe because it can't. Or she thinks that if Elle did not include any information, it must not be relevant. Or maybe both.)

But she wastes no time in heading for the garage. If she were a slightly different person, maybe she would even wish for the elevator to go faster.

As it is, when she steps into the cool darkness of the garage, she pauses for several seconds, caught halfway between scenting the air and looking around.

Just in case.

At the end of the nearest row, two lights are blinking on and off. While there's no sound of crackling, no scent of ozone, the blue-ish white glow that flickers on and off (no consistent pattern to it) may still seem somewhat familiar.

X follows that familiar glow, footsteps as silent as she can make them against the hard floor of the garage.

And when she is closer, and when there is no real trace of her friend's scent --

"Elle?"

There does not seem to be anyone else around, at least.

The glow, it turns out, is coming from two headlights, belonging to a rather pretty but still somewhat strange looking convertible. The exterior is immaculate - shimmering dark blue and impossibly small (there can't be room for a battery or gas tank), not so much as a scratch or a dent anywhere, its black top retracted to reveal the interior.

Which... isn't quite as nice. There are four, narrow, black leather seats, and aside from this not so much as a cup holder. The dashboard is dark, though the only apparently relevant mechanism behind the steering wheel is an old-fashioned odometer. On the dashboard between the seats is only an AM radio - no place for technology even as recent as the cassette tape.

The car's headlights continue to flash, a little more quickly now. If X looks into the car, she'll see that a small, steel key has been left on the driver's seat, a light blue gem embedded in it.

Because a car without a key cannot run and starts to rust. Or something like that.

Edited 2012-06-02 22:04 (UTC)

X does, indeed, look into the car. She leans in, in point of fact, carefully scenting the air to see if Elle has been here.

It --

If she did not know better, or if her senses were less acute, she might almost say her friend had been.

But as it is, it is just confusing.

Hmm.

The rate of the headlights' flashing might be described as 'frantic' now.

But as its key remains on the seat, the dashboard remains dark.

Well, considering she is the only one here, X is the only one that's going to explode if something goes horribly awry.

And since even an explosion won't kill her --

She slips into the front seat to put the key into the ignition.

And turns it.

The headlights' flashing subsides as the engine revs into life. Several lights flicker on across the dashboard, including a panel above the radio dial, though no numbers appear, and for a moment, there's only silence.

Then:

"... hi, X."

It's unmistakably Elle's voice.

"Elle," X says. It's just this side of involuntary.

Then --

"This is Cubefall?"

Beat.

"Or it was done to you."

These are the most immediately important questions, she feels.

"It was Cubefall."

She offers that up easily enough. As she does, the right-side review mirror twitches.

"I..."

"... I hadn't done it before."

Because that makes choosing to turn into a car totally normal!

"Oh."

X absorbs that, flicking a quick sideways look at the right-side mirror.

Just in case it falls off. Or . . . something.

"You like it?"

This time, the left mirror moves back and forth a couple times.

"It's quiet."

Beat.

"But I can't - move very much."

At least, not without a driver.

"Oh," X repeats.

"You are not self-driven. As a car."

Beat.

"You would like help?"

"Yeah."

The engine revs slightly, but the car doesn't move. Her transmission is still in park, after all.

"It's - boring down here."

Apparently the 'car' option wasn't that popular.

"Okay."

X falls silent for a moment, thinking about the options.

Then --

"I will have to change my entrance. To Milliways. So that you will be able to get out on the other side. Like this."

Beat.

"If that is acceptable."

"If it's okay."

And then, aware that X may be inconveniencing herself because Elle didn't totally think things through...

"Thanks."

"It is okay," X says, not mechanically at all.

Because it is true.

"I will be back."

She leaves the key in the ignition as she makes her way back to the bar proper. And, since this seems like a good occasion to ask Warren for a ride to the hangar beneath the Marin Headlands --

X returns less than a half hour later.

"We can go now. I do not know where you will like to drive."

In the meantime, Elle has apparently leaned the passenger seat all the way back, and figured out how to turn the radio on to what sounds like some kind of opera, though not in any recognizable human language.

She switches it back off when X returns.

"You can -"

But she changes her mind midway, and then suggests - "Something by the water."

It's a reasonable request for San Francisco, and at least the view will be nice.

"That will not be difficult," X says almost immediately.

It's San Francisco and the surrounding areas. None of that will be difficult at all. Traffic-filled, perhaps. But that is not the same thing.

"You are ready to go now?"

If the answer is yes, X will put Elle's pedal to the floor and start with the driving.

Even if they end up listening to inhuman opera. At least the company will be good.

She may get a better signal to inhumane opera in Milliways than in X's world, but there's only one way to tell. The passenger's seat comes back up, and the rear view mirrors right themselves before she answers -

"Yeah, I am."

"Then we can go."

X shifts Elle out of park, backs her out of the currently occupied space, and drives her through and available door and out into San Francisco.

Now, to find the highway! It will not really be difficult.

"This is weird..."

It doesn't sound like she means it in a bad way, exactly. Her acceleration works a little too well (though her brakes do, too), and her headlights dim as they drive into the sunlight.

"It's like I can - feel things but - not the same way."

"I am allowed to ask?"

And then, a few moments later --

"Shifting gears does not hurt?"

That would end this trip faster than . . . most things.