milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The woman walking into the bar today still has the remains of eyeliner and glitter around her eyes, but the clothes themselves are a perfectly ordinary set of shorts and fitted t-shirt.

If anyone asks, Nadine was at a party last night. And, because she can, Natasha is going to make sure that party was way, way more fun than 'Tanya's' waitressing shift.

Mostly, though, she's going to claim a couch, slip off her tennis shoes, and curl her feet up, just because she can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Because she's not human, or from another world, or...you're close?"

Possibilities, after all. She can deal in the realm of those.

"Technically neither my friend and I are quite human, we're mutants," The rest of her question is harder to answer.

"As I said, its complicated."

Her eyebrow is raised even further.

"You're of a completely species altogether?" Her mind is running on thoughts of Neanderthals, pop-science articles, interbreeding.

"Next step in human evolution. I'm not certain at this point if we're another species or a sub-species. Sub-species is more correct but I would need more data to say for certain. I'm a geneticist."

'Course you are.

"And what about you means that you are no longer homo sapiens sapiens?"

"I'm a telepath. I first started hearing people's thoughts when I was about five,"

He takes a sip of his drink that a rat has brought and waits for her reaction. It doesn't seem like its going to be positive but he might end up surprised.

The vague, mostly subconscious tension that had started when he mentioned being a geneticist along with his wild theories abruptly sharpens into the kind of fear that reacts with attacking rather than fleeing.

Get the fuck out of my head! screams through her mind at the same time as she thinks about breaking his neck (no weapons; she trusts her body more than weapons anyway). For all it's the reaction of a mind that's been beaten and hurt, there is a casualness to the violence that makes it more an option she thought up, rather than a fantasy.

Physically, she doesn't move; rather, her muscles go tense and then dangerously loose, and her expression is mild.

"Active telepathy, or passive?"

Her thoughts and how easily she contemplates killing him causes him to go pale and take a long sip of his scotch before he answer,

"I can't turn it off. Instead I have shields to filter the world and keep from being overwhelmed. The majority of the time its passive. I can find another place to sit and not speak to you again if that would make you more comfortable."

If he'd looked that pale just at that, then he can't have pried that far (counterpoint: people find personal threats more shocking than other things), she thinks.

And then she thinks, one.

Two.

Three.

She counts all the way to ten, regulating her breathing.

"What did you pick up in this conversation?"

Edited 2013-08-06 05:30 (UTC)

"You're tired and have been having migraines. Also I would guess that you have some training in a field where observation is important but I don't know anything more specific. Also I recently wrote my dissertation on mutation and genetics at Oxford, I believe there's a copy in the library if not Bar can get you one,"

Since he hasn't gone looking, he doesn't do that unless he has a reason.

"I'll ask the Bar when I can spare the mind to read it."

Surface thoughts, then. Okay-

"I don't recommend prying. To start with, I'll count it as being a violation, and I'll tell Security. Secondly, I've...got traps in my mind. Mostly they're meant for me, but I imagine someone else wouldn't find them fun."

Part of her is thinking that she's being terribly unsubtle with her threats, that it's distinctly unprofessional and she knows how to handle things better. The rest of her is still in the eerie calm of being threatened.

"I won't, but if I can ever help. My skills are available to you since I have a unique understanding of minds,"

Its a better resolution than he expected.

"I'll keep that in mind," she says, can't quite helping a mental, if things get worse.

"But for now, I think I'll take you up on your offer of you leaving."

He nods and picks up his drink, "Of course, have a good night."

"Good night."

Pause.

"And good luck with your friend."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only