(no subject)

[flip_the_lights]

They found another one of the Cortexiphan kids this week: Simon Phillips. He wasn't in Olivia's "class"; he took part in the Wooster trials several states over, and was kicked out after his primary skill turned toward mind reading.

Olivia was the first person he'd met in twenty years who could enter his house and not start a cacophony. Two decades of uncontrolled telepathy, with the Cortexiphan in Olivia's body -- how it triggered a barrier to her thoughts, one Simon couldn't cross for whatever reason -- offering him the only relief.

Two decades of living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, because otherwise, he'd go completely insane from the noise.

Now, she's at a table with a glass of whiskey, studying it with more care than strictly necessary. Her problem, she thinks, has always been finding the so-called "on" switch -- never in turning it off again. Maybe it's time to explore the benefits of both.

Comments

[ladyfirestarter]

"... Olivia?"

It's Charlie, a few feet away from her table, with a mug of tea in one hand and her cane in the other.

[flip_the_lights]

Olivia glances up, her expression lightening considerably at the sight. "Hey, Charlie," she says. "It's been a while, I know."

According to the bar calendar, anyway.

[ladyfirestarter]

"Yeah," she says, "little over a year I think -- how have you been?"

[flip_the_lights]

"I've been all right," she says. More wry, "It...hasn't been that long for me."

She tips her head toward the chair across from her: want to sit?

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie nods her thanks, slides into the offered seat, sets down her tea and leans her cane against the table.

"How long for you, then?"

[flip_the_lights]

She blows out a breath. Her bangs have finally grown long enough that she can get away with tucking them behind her ears, sans pins; a few strands break free when she exhales. Olivia shoves them back.

"A few weeks since my last visit, at most," she says. "Maybe two months since..."

In lieu of elaborating, she gestures toward her hair.

[ladyfirestarter]

It only takes Charlie a moment to realize what that's about.

"Two months," she echoes. "...How're you holding up?"

[flip_the_lights]

Olivia pulls a mild face.

"As best as I can," she decides on at last. "Better, than before."

In some respects, she thinks wryly, she had nowhere to go but up.

[ladyfirestarter]

"Good to know," Charlie says soberly. "If you need anything ..."

[nerves_of_ice]

Finding out that Natasha knows about Milliways, too, has both served as something of a relief and to spike his curiosity. Why the two of them? How can they use it?

It's enough to make him decide to drop in and look around while on his way back from meeting with Durant.

He glances around the bar, and spots a familiar face.

"Olivia, hello."

[flip_the_lights]

She looks up, automatically tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Alex," she greets him. "Good to see you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"You too," he replies. "How're things?"

[flip_the_lights]

"They're all right," she says, more or less automatically; like hell is she discussing the current case with him. "And yourself?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not bad," he says. He flexes the fingers of his left hand, in their leather glove.

"I'll be getting back to work soon."

[flip_the_lights]

"Yeah?" Her expression lightens a touch, even as her gaze flicks to his left hand and back in a swift assessment. "Remind me where it is you work? -- And do you want to sit?" she adds, nodding to the opposite chair.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I work in a factory. Parts assembly."

He drags out the chair and takes a seat, with a quick smile for her.

[flip_the_lights]

She returns it, just as quick.

"Ah," she says. "Was there a reason you took off work for a while?"

[collects_strays]

[ooc: If you don't mind a late tag...]

There are soft tapping and scratching sounds coming from the floor, something more than the usual made by the scurrying waitrats. At the next table, a few chairs are nudged slightly out of place.

A few moments later, if Olivia looks down, she may see a shaggy dog sniffing at her chair.

[flip_the_lights]

[ooc: I don't mind at all! :D]

The muted whff-whff-whff of said sniffing gets her attention. Olivia looks down -- and smiles, small but warm, at the sight.

"Hey," she murmurs. Making sure not to intrude too much on the dog's space, she offers a hand for investigation. "How're you doing there?"

[collects_strays]

The dog moves to sniff at her fingers, and then presses his nose up to her palm.

A few moments later, distinctly human footsteps approach, and a weary voice calls out, "Winston."

The dog looks back, but doesn't leave Olivia's side. His apparent companion, holding a mug of coffee and looking just as weary as he sounds, flashes a glance up to her from behind his glasses.

"Sorry."

[flip_the_lights]

Olivia gives the dog a brief scratch behind the ears, then removes her hand. "Winston," she says, in the faintly sing-song voice so many people adopt when talking to animals. "Go back to your owner, okay?"

And, dropping back to a normal tone as she addresses the man, "It's all right. He didn't do any harm."

[collects_strays]

Winston sniffs at her hand for another moment, but then turns back, and treads back over to the man. His companion kneels slightly to meet him, patting his head once with his free hand before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Didn't mean to let him wander off."

The man pulls his hand out of his pocket again, in a closed fist, and holds it out to the dog. His palm opens to a small, bone-shaped treat, which Winston eats out of his hand.

Apparently, the coffee wasn't his only reason for stopping at the Bar.

[flip_the_lights]

Something in the way the man carries himself reminds her of Simon. Not wounded, exactly; overwhelmed, either by external or internal forces. Olivia watches him for a beat as he tends to Winston.

"Does he do that a lot?" she asks.

[collects_strays]

"Not usually, anymore."

Graham's still watching Winston as he speaks. He scratches the dog behind the ear a couple times, and then stands again.

"Must be more distractions in here."

[flip_the_lights]

"I wouldn't be surprised," she murmurs.

After another beat: "I'm Olivia, by the way."