[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Hungry Like The RUNTIME ERROR - Closed
Apr 29, 2016 22:38:54 GMT -5
Post by Dart on Apr 29, 2016 22:38:54 GMT -5
Dart watched the interchange between Marco and the woman and then couldn't help but laugh a little, but then grew quiet again. She toyed with the corner of the menu. Obvious relief had crossed her face and softened her gaze; Marco might be upset at him (and that in itself made her feel oddly better,) but it meant there was someone to be upset about. It had been a fear that had lurked at the back of her thoughts ever since her and Pyrotech had arrived back to the States; that the reason that line had stayed still and quiet wasn't just because it wasn't safe for contact right now.
That dread that it was because like so many things in her life; there and then gone, never, ever coming back. She trusted his promises; that wasn't the problem. No, it just was the ever present sniff of death; it never wandered far from anything mortal, and while they were long-lived, Cybertronians still died.
Sure, time would fade those memories that bit into to her now and again. They just never went away; leaping back into the forefront with a whiff of scent, or the faint sound of a passing aircraft overhead. She shook herself, her bangs ruffling, and focused back quickly on what Marco had asked.
"Yes," she replied. "The- er, the iPad works great, I just feel silly that I never considered that it could do that before now. I had a bit of an accident the other day. Kinda tore the speaker cord right out of my phone, I guess."
Her hand came up to the collar of her shirt. Dart rubbed ruefully at the slightly frayed edge of the dark fabric. That sort of summed it up, sure. Much nicer sounding than I got my foot stuck and then ran into an Autobot officer who ripped it out of my throat-guard. "S'okay, I just can't afford to get it fixed right now, that's all." Truth. Too much for Pyrotech to be suspicious about and he was always waiting for her to mess up again.
The DIA is- wait, the actual human Defense Intelligence Agency? Has to be, with him throwing out the bit about the NRO, and---
Dart tucked her shoulders a bit and settled her elbows down on the tabletop. "I didn't know you knew about the Duran Duran thing," she admitted, even as she sheepishly shifted in the pleather seat. Thankfully she was distracted from wanting to slink under the table by the arrival of the waitress handing Marco his coffee. Huh, she called him Doc? Neat, seemed very waitress-like for some reason; a natural thing to give a favorite customer a nickname.
Every little thing caught her attention. It was- it was so real, all of it. A thousand things to observe about the real world around you, to focus on. So many folks didn't see or understand or remember that made up the picture of the whole. Paintings and drawings without that attention to those details often lacked- well, life. It lacked the everyday moments that the day brought with it.
"Thank you, ma'am," Dart said automatically to the other woman, even as she reached for the cup.
At the grin, and eyebrow wiggle, she tipped her head back slightly. Okay, one more habit of hers he knew about.
"No. Not like this," she agreed with a rueful smile.
As her hands folded around the cup, the courier startled. Her fingers immediately released, drew back, she didn't seem to know what to do with them for a moment. Her hands hovered over the mug, half-curled, and she looked over at Marco with obvious surprise on her face; she had not been expecting the heat. Then slowly, ever so carefully, Dart settled her hands back around the coffee.
She completely focused on it, watching the little ripples it made with every slight motion. Dart had bought a few cups at Starbucks, and at other coffee places, and this was as real as those moments. No, it was more real. Scent and touch and sound and the tap of his tanned fingers over the ash-tray. The tiny grey bits it left behind. Steam curled into the air, fading softly into the space in the diner. Finally, she looked back up at Marco with a surprisingly open expression of pure amazement and awe as the warmth radiated through the ceramic and into her palms.
"It's hot," she told him with delight. "The coffee's hot."
Fascinated, she leaned and stretched her nose towards the liquid within, instead of bringing the cup up to her face. The courier's eyes half closed as she sniffed - wait, wait, oh gosh she could smell in the avatar right now, and it did smell exactly like all the coffees she'd ever bought. Then honestly given away to those humans that sat on the corners, asking for change, because she didn't like wasting them. Or like all the cups half empty in rubbish bins outside of little shops. Her thumb came up to rub lightly on the rim, feeling the smoothness of the ceramic before she picked it up in her hands as if she was afraid to break it.
She glanced at Marco, unsure, peeking out over the edge of the cup's rim. Then ever so carefully, she took a sip.
Immediately the courier wrinkled her nose and stuck out the tip of her tongue. She drew back from the cup in her hands and a little whuffle-snort of surprise echoed across the space between them.
Dart then ducked her head and laughed. "It smells better than it tastes," she admitted and then reached for the bowl of neatly stacked creamers in front of her on the table. "Oh, ah that's not a comment on your coffee, promise. It smells less burnt than Starbucks. Right, right, forgot, usually when I buy it I always order cream and sugar. Smells sweet."
She carefully plucked out two creamers and started to peel the lid on the first one back. "Just one of the things?"she asked finally, even as she tried to figure out which side to pour the half and half out of the little plastic container.
That dread that it was because like so many things in her life; there and then gone, never, ever coming back. She trusted his promises; that wasn't the problem. No, it just was the ever present sniff of death; it never wandered far from anything mortal, and while they were long-lived, Cybertronians still died.
Sure, time would fade those memories that bit into to her now and again. They just never went away; leaping back into the forefront with a whiff of scent, or the faint sound of a passing aircraft overhead. She shook herself, her bangs ruffling, and focused back quickly on what Marco had asked.
"Yes," she replied. "The- er, the iPad works great, I just feel silly that I never considered that it could do that before now. I had a bit of an accident the other day. Kinda tore the speaker cord right out of my phone, I guess."
Her hand came up to the collar of her shirt. Dart rubbed ruefully at the slightly frayed edge of the dark fabric. That sort of summed it up, sure. Much nicer sounding than I got my foot stuck and then ran into an Autobot officer who ripped it out of my throat-guard. "S'okay, I just can't afford to get it fixed right now, that's all." Truth. Too much for Pyrotech to be suspicious about and he was always waiting for her to mess up again.
The DIA is- wait, the actual human Defense Intelligence Agency? Has to be, with him throwing out the bit about the NRO, and---
Dart tucked her shoulders a bit and settled her elbows down on the tabletop. "I didn't know you knew about the Duran Duran thing," she admitted, even as she sheepishly shifted in the pleather seat. Thankfully she was distracted from wanting to slink under the table by the arrival of the waitress handing Marco his coffee. Huh, she called him Doc? Neat, seemed very waitress-like for some reason; a natural thing to give a favorite customer a nickname.
Every little thing caught her attention. It was- it was so real, all of it. A thousand things to observe about the real world around you, to focus on. So many folks didn't see or understand or remember that made up the picture of the whole. Paintings and drawings without that attention to those details often lacked- well, life. It lacked the everyday moments that the day brought with it.
"Thank you, ma'am," Dart said automatically to the other woman, even as she reached for the cup.
At the grin, and eyebrow wiggle, she tipped her head back slightly. Okay, one more habit of hers he knew about.
"No. Not like this," she agreed with a rueful smile.
As her hands folded around the cup, the courier startled. Her fingers immediately released, drew back, she didn't seem to know what to do with them for a moment. Her hands hovered over the mug, half-curled, and she looked over at Marco with obvious surprise on her face; she had not been expecting the heat. Then slowly, ever so carefully, Dart settled her hands back around the coffee.
She completely focused on it, watching the little ripples it made with every slight motion. Dart had bought a few cups at Starbucks, and at other coffee places, and this was as real as those moments. No, it was more real. Scent and touch and sound and the tap of his tanned fingers over the ash-tray. The tiny grey bits it left behind. Steam curled into the air, fading softly into the space in the diner. Finally, she looked back up at Marco with a surprisingly open expression of pure amazement and awe as the warmth radiated through the ceramic and into her palms.
"It's hot," she told him with delight. "The coffee's hot."
Fascinated, she leaned and stretched her nose towards the liquid within, instead of bringing the cup up to her face. The courier's eyes half closed as she sniffed - wait, wait, oh gosh she could smell in the avatar right now, and it did smell exactly like all the coffees she'd ever bought. Then honestly given away to those humans that sat on the corners, asking for change, because she didn't like wasting them. Or like all the cups half empty in rubbish bins outside of little shops. Her thumb came up to rub lightly on the rim, feeling the smoothness of the ceramic before she picked it up in her hands as if she was afraid to break it.
She glanced at Marco, unsure, peeking out over the edge of the cup's rim. Then ever so carefully, she took a sip.
Immediately the courier wrinkled her nose and stuck out the tip of her tongue. She drew back from the cup in her hands and a little whuffle-snort of surprise echoed across the space between them.
Dart then ducked her head and laughed. "It smells better than it tastes," she admitted and then reached for the bowl of neatly stacked creamers in front of her on the table. "Oh, ah that's not a comment on your coffee, promise. It smells less burnt than Starbucks. Right, right, forgot, usually when I buy it I always order cream and sugar. Smells sweet."
She carefully plucked out two creamers and started to peel the lid on the first one back. "Just one of the things?"she asked finally, even as she tried to figure out which side to pour the half and half out of the little plastic container.