milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Autor has his feet up on the couch today, taking notes on Schak's German translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

A medical textbook is on his lap, with detailed entries about dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins earmarked. Dog-eared copies of The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice, and The Great Gatsby form a stack on the floor against the couch. On the stack is a plate of dumplings, cold and untouched.

Unfortunately, none of it seems to help with his ultimate goal: falling out of love. There's a dearth of classics that teach what he wants to know. Love drives all the great stories, Rae had said, and Autor finds that her words are true, even though he doesn't think his great story is written that way.

There's still a blush on his face. The Rubaiyat is a bit mushy.

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The boy snorts, clearly amused. "I am not slighted in the slightest, believe me. You bet that the loser would have to prank someone else? Ha! Do let me know how that goes if you will!"

His smile flickers into a shade more embarrassed at the question. "Ah, um, it is merely the curiosity of a fool interested in finding out the chemical compositions of certain emotions. I'm sure you know, but when happy, our brains release endorphins and dopamine and so on, and I wanted to, um, see if I could give that a practical application? Er."

Joly leans forward, all interest. "Please, don't assume my knowledge-- I've only begun studying neurochemistry, and it's so complicated. What sort of practical application were you considering?"

"Well, not so much practical--applying chemicals to my body is a bad idea, as untrained as I am--as my trying to understand the process so that I can, um, circumvent it via willpower. Truthfully its a silly project and I should probably just abandon the chemical aspect right now."

"Well, if you think that's an unproductive angle, certainly, set it aside. But-- if I understand, you're trying to subvert your own emotions?" He blinks. "Autor, why? I know there are...well, many theories about alienism-- I'm sorry, that's what we called it, there have been so many shifts-- but...well, if that's it, surely there are some proven therapies?" He smiles a little. "And if that's not it, you will have to tell me-- as I said, don't assume my knowledge. But whatever it is, I won't call it silly."

Autor shakes his head and holds up a hand. "That's not it, I'm pretty sure. I'm trying to... There's one aspect of emotion I'd rather not have right now. For reasons."

He swallows, and laces his fingers under his chin, regarding his friend seriously. He leans forward, glances furtively around, and whispers. "I have found that I am rather... affectionate. To a certain person. And I'd rather--I should be their friend instead. I think they'd rather I'd be their friend."

"Ah." Joly considers, head tilted. "Very true, if she's made her wishes clear than that's the path to take."

He rubs his nose with his cane, considering. "Yes, I don't think chemical manipulation is the way to go,then. You're talking about a much finer degree of change." He smiles a little wryly. "And I'm really not the one to tell you how to change your feelings for someone. But- is it even necessary? You know you can be her friend, anyway, even if your feelings don't change. That's about how you act, more than anything."

Autor may be saying their, but the French language is unkind with neutral-gendered terms-- and Autor's crush has not been very subtle.

Autor notes that Joly has picked up on the particular who in the conversation with some consternation. He brushes it off on the grounds that Joly is an intelligent person; of course he'd pick up on it.

"We haven't exactly talked about it," Autor admits, rubbing the back of his burning neck. "Someone else told her that I liked her, acting out of cruelty to me, and I haven't confirmed that yet. But she knows. And she said what I feel is my business until I say so otherwise, and I have a strong feeling that she'd prefer that my business not become hers, yet. If ever."

The boy blinks at Joly's suggestion. "I... hadn't thought about that, no. But it feels as if it will be impossible. It will be easier to fall out of love, I suspect."

"I'm not sure whether I should entirely wish you success."

For a moment Joly looks almost serious, then his smile broadens. "But I hear people do it quite often; most writers seem to think the fastest method is to get married. Since that doesn't seem to be one of your options here, perhaps a distraction would help? We still need to scout out a theater, if you're up to it. I'd meant to ask you sooner, but then there was the arrest-- did I tell you?--and your arm, and everything's been rather lively."

He catches himself on that, and laughs. "Death is not proving the restful state I'd been promised at all, I should complain."

Autor smiles back, amused at the marriage comment and grateful to Joly for offering a distraction. "Yes, we absolutely should! And arrest? Joly, have you had a run-in with Security? That doesn't seem like you."

That's funny, given the circumstances,and Joly laughs. "No, you're right, I'm quite the innocent in this. It's Bossuet who's the hardened criminal, now. I'm sure you marked his criminal look from the first." He becomes a little more serious, but only a little. "It was Bossuet who got arrested, along with Bahorel. Both of them very nearly take sole credit for the event, though I'm more inclined to believe Bahorel. Really I suspect it was mostly the arresting officer's fault-- a fellow named Gene Hunt." He frowns. " Forgive me if he's a dear friend of yours, but he left no fond impression on any of us."

At Joly's mention of Gene, Autor adopts an expression similar to a hissing cat without sound. It merges into one that's similar to his biting into a lemon, pursed lips and all. "I am not fond of Gene Hunt, nor is he fond of the French," the boy says curtly, though that's not meant for Joly. "But good heavens, Bossuet arrested! And Bahorel. What on earth did they do?"

Joly knew Autor was a good fellow.

"Indeed, Officer Hunt seems to object to a great deal about us all. As far as I can gather, he was asking Bossuet some unpleasant questions, Bahorel joined the conversation, and then Officer Hunt decided to, ah--"Joly's smile gets very thin for a moment knock Bossuet into the bar. "Bahorel then became involved in that, and he and Officer Hunt broke each others' noses, and the Bossuet and Bahorel were put in jail for a day. Which seems like a nice jail, as these things go, though I don't really know, since we were all thrown out in short order when I went to check up on them." Joly huffs out a breath of air and throws his hands up. It's not Autor he's upset with.

He laughs a little. " I wouldn't be too surprised about him arresting Bahorel, mind. I really need to see if there's any sort of visiting rules, I expect we shall rather need them."

Autor shakes his head. "Ah. That, unfortunately, sounds like Gene Hunt. Poor Bossuet, that must have hurt," the boy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But good heavens, they broke each others' noses? Were they allowed medical treatment in the cells? And throwing you out is ridiculous. I think visiting hours are determined by the arresting officer. Someone should be told about that, but I don't know anyone who would curb the authority of Gene Hunt."

"Ah-- no, no, sorry, Bahorel and Officer Hunt broke each others' noses. Officer Hunt did manage to land a few punches on Bossuet, though--though Bahorel says Bossuet didn't do anything in the way of fighting. And I was allowed to look at them, barely--long enough to set Bahorel's nose and hand over some painkillers, but not as long as I'd like to have done for head injuries."

He sighs. "But then Officer Hunt didn't seem to believe in medical treatment for himself, so... No, I don't know that there's anyone to talk to about it either. We're trying to figure that out right now." He looks down at the top of his cane. "So there's a little bit of home for all of us, I suppose."

He smiles a little bitterly, then laughs outright. "Though that may put us in violation of the rule against outside business."

Edited 2014-12-02 01:19 (UTC)

Autor laughs with him. "Oh, Joly," the boy says, shaking his head. "Not allowing Bahorel medical treatment at all would be some sort of ethics violation, though Gene Hunt doesn't care about that. I am glad that you were at least able to set Bahorel's nose, though since you weren't allowed to observe him... Well, I hope that there's something to be done. Maybe drafting a letter to Melaka Fray? Though if she's able to get wrangle Mr. Hunt into a respectable man, I'll eat my socks."

"I'm afraid in our experience guards don't generally care about violating ethics. Honestly, I'm glad they weren't hurt worse, or kept longer-- which I know is a wretched thing to be glad over, but it's true. We are hoping there's someone we can just talk to-- have you met Madam- ah, Officer Fray?"

"Once, and it was a while ago," Autor says, shaking his head. "I think she owes me a dinner for writing the guide. She's very no-nonsense, and if you catch her with a bloody nose, don't be surprised. She's quite the warrior."

He grimaces. "I suspect she'll be less than sympathetic to your cause. Gene Hunt has--despite his nature--proven useful in the past with regards to investigating cases that have cropped up in Milliways. I'm sorry, Joly. I don't mean to give you false hopes."

Joly shakes his head, smiling. "Don't worry. We've no particular hopes yet.-- Except I for one hope we might find some way of addressing all this without anyone needing to come to blows again. The more we can find out about how security here works, the more likely that becomes."

He frowns again. "This is no vendetta against Hunt, you know. We may not like the man, but the problem is in the law and its enforcement. Throwing out one officer would be no triumph, even if we could. Better terms between Security and the residents here- that's what's needed."

"Security works in a very fractured and scattered manner, with each individual officer enforcing the law as they see fit, setting the terms as they see fit," Autor says, pursing his lips again. "And each officer interprets the law as well, though I haven't run into many people who don't adhere to it. Punishable violence, I've found, is merely physical, not emotional or psychological, which is why Hannibal Lecter is a free man. It's easier to prove a bloody nose."

He adjusts his glasses. "But I understand. Refining the Security office is of great interest to me as well. Do let me know if I can help in any way. Have you spoken to Teja?"

"Ah- yes, in a manner of speaking." He shakes his head with a laugh. "That is, Lesgle did, somewhat accidentally. I gather it didn't go very well. But then these things always go slowly at first! Have you had any particular dealings with security?"

Autor hesitates, wondering if he should tell Joly the truth--or, rather, how much truth he should tell Joly. "I made the mistake of taking notes on other people for my own personal observations, and someone caught them and alerted Security," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. "Gene Hunt pursued me, and other people were concerned for my well-being; it was how I met him, and I'll tell you that the impression was not favorable on either of our ends. Eventually, I met Teja, Molly, and Melaka Fray, who determined that someone's diary shouldn't be the purview of the whole bar, and the whole thing blew over."

Joly blinks. "You were taking notes, and that's what upset him? I take notes all the time, this place and its residents are endless, how else is a man to learn anything? Though I suppose Officer Hunt may not approve of learning things. Terribly threatening to society, I hear." He can't hide a smile as he says it. It's both too ridiculous and too familiar.

Autor flashes a steely grin. "Indeed, he very much disapproves of students in all their forms," he says, inclining his head. "But... Truth be told it was someone else who brought the notes to his attention, which were considered frightening because they described when a person would die--which they'd told me about themselves. So. Not your standard notes, but certainly not your standard reaction, either."

He tilts his head. "Speaking of notes, would you like mine on the chemistry of love?"

"I suppose being here must cause a great many such oddities. Lesgle too, come to think of it..." Joly shakes his head dismissing the thought for another day. "Certainly I would like to see your notes,if you don't mind sharing!"

"Indeed," Autor says, not unsympathetically. But he dismisses it when Joly does. The boy leans over to pluck the corner of a sheet of paper out of the leaves of his medical text book, and offers it to Joly. "I am sad to say that I don't understand how all of these work, but I am not a true neurochemist, just a dabbler."