milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.

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"The seasons," she says, lifting her chin to indicate the back door. "I know the outside's meant to be Scotland, and unless it's gone from summer to spring in the span of a few weeks..."

Graham.

"I - don't think enough time passed for me to see that."

"It's possible it hasn't," she agrees. "Even if you've been coming here for a long time by your own world's calendar."

A slight smile.

"If this weren't a fairly stable environment, the time fluctuations would bother me a lot more than they do."

He nods, but stays quiet for a moment.

Then, "Do you have trouble with time... in other environments?"

"Not usually. There are...they're called 'soft spots,' in my world. They're a little bit like here, except when two universes overlap or start to merge back home, they don't form a bar."

(The last is quite dry.)

"They screw with time, space, and physics instead."

Graham watches the edge of the table as she speaks, with no particular reaction to her explanation.

With a small nod, "A bar might be better."

"Less messy, for sure," she says, the dryness persisting.

And then: "Why do you ask?"

"My world doesn't have places where, um - universes merge."

He glances up to her, then back down to the table. "And you sounded like you knew what you were talking about. With time."

Olivia nods.

"I do," she says. "Only in that specific context, though. And I'm sure I don't know everything it's possible to know even within that context."

"One more context than I'd have," he points out, as he lifts his mug.

"One more than a lot of people have," she agrees, wry. "It's probably good you don't have to deal with that."

There's a small nod, before he takes a sip of his coffee.

As he sets it down again, "One universe is enough for me."

"Same here," she says, rueful. "Too bad the universes I deal with don't agree."

Olivia swallows a little more of her own drink.

"Where's home for you?"

"I, um - live near Wolf Trap, Virginia."

He briefly looks up to her, as though to return the question without actually having to ask it.

Edited 2014-04-12 04:20 (UTC)

She catches the unspoken question, and offers a brief smile in return. "I'm further north," she says. "Boston. I spent a lot of time around the DC area a while back, though."

He nods, not looking back up.

"I mostly work out of Quantico."

Huh.

Olivia would be really damn surprised if Will were in the Marine Corps, even in a behind-the-scenes capacity; that rules out that corner of MCB Quantico. That leaves two other options:

"DEA or FBI?"

Graham doesn't look surprised by her question, or her deduction.

"Um, FBI."

She nods; her smile grows a fraction.

"That's why I was down around DC, too."

His eyes stay down.

But he answers, almost like a disclaimer, "I uh - teach at the Academy."

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