dualislogs | All Work and No Play

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All Work and No Play

Who: David Alleyne, OTA
What: Explorations, Investigations, and... Grocery Shopping?
Where: Television Station, Dorms Area, Local Grocery Store
When: Early to Mid July
Warnings: None, Will Update as Needed

Investigations

This wasn't what he'd expected to be doing, when he'd first woken up upon arrival. Of course he hadn't expected a lot of things other than his life being more complicated after the New Year's Eve party. However, he had agreed to help Hank, and that meant David was trying to follow the path to answers that Hank had outlined. With no real access to bomb details that meant the broadcast source, the television stations. It had taken a few days for him to pinpoint a starting location, especially since David kept getting inexplicably lost for someone with as much skill at finding paths as he had. Still, getting to a place didn't mean he immediately had a route in. Which meant David was looking at the building from a cafe across the street, casing it for how to get in.

Explorations

'Tattoos Inside! Get Ink and Fabulous Powers At the Same Time!'

It was an advertisement that David assumed had to do with the voucher he'd received on arrival, but that didn't mean he knew quite what to do with the claim. He had looked a few times at the scant number of examples on the poster, but all of it seemed so... impossible. A tattoo to allow you to fling fireballs? Who's ever heard of such a thing. Surely the infection you could get would be horrible too. And yet he's seen so many people here with things like this.

And part of him... part of David longs for what he sees. To be useful again, in a new way. Wasn't that what he'd wanted for years?

"Dammit," he curses under his breath.

Shopping

It's been the worst week, and frankly? David deserves a bit of an indulgence. His new job sucks almost as hard as his old one, he hasn't made nearly as much investigation progress as he would have wanted, and frankly? He's getting tired of the food in the dorms.

One of these he can solve. One of these he is solving, and doing it by a grocery trip. HE has all the skills and knowledge of an award willing chef. Like hell he isn't going to use them for some comfort. Which in this case means David going around a grocery store to get ingredients. A simple pasta primavera should be lovely, and that means carefully considering produce and cheese. And since he doesn't want to mess with it, a nice crusty bread for the side.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, David wouldn't argue that Erik and Charles were ever involved, but that's him.

"I was telemimetic," David answers, walking away from the tattoo shop. "A light, passive telepathy. I absorbed skills and knowledge from people. Some of what I know and do is stuff I've researched. A lot of it is derived from others. I take that knowledge and fold it together in my head in my own ways."

Of course to know what all he knows, he'd have to get into the people he knew. Still, it's something. And he doesn't mind the questions that it may raise.

"Jesus, that'd be helpful." That would be a crap thing to lose, too. "Connor told me once he could file reports just while closing his eyes and that seemed a hundred times more fuckin' relaxing than the bland old human way. Was it like that?"

"But you got to keep what you had before? Losing your abilities didn't take that?"

Oh no, it's not like that. David chuckles, shaking his head. If only it was like that.

"It was there, regardless of what I wanted. It happened always, unless a stronger telepath was shutting me down or there was some other power blocking me," David explains. "And I didn't get to keep it. I could only have it when I was in their presence. It wasn't until later that I regained what my brain had already stored."

And not all of that had come through here. Which was for the best.

"Ah, well. Still a pretty fuckin' useful thing. Did it only work with humans with skills or did it work with mutants with them? Not their abilities, but skills. Or aliens. I guess you had aliens there, too, huh..."

He muses out loud, mind still working its way around this being fact and not fiction.

"All people who weren't mentally shielded from me," David assures him, shrugging at the question. "But you're right, I can't get abilities. I mean, I am a blackbelt in telepathic combat because of one telepath, but that doesn't mean I am a real telepath. Knew a mutant that was an olympic skiier. So I'm damn good at skiing. Logan was a combat master, so I've got that too."

So many other things, business management and magic and all the rest. A surprising bit of which he can barely remember. Which is upsetting in its own way.

The temptation to ask what kind of guy Logan actually is like is great. But he chooses not to. Seems like bad timing.

"So is it a sort of autopilot or if you had your abilities would you be able to sit here and name the years a bunch of fuckin' albums came out because I know them." Yes, because he's one of those kinds of dipshits.

Hardly all that interesting of a question. The more interesting one would be asking David's opinion of Cyclops. That one might have a rant attached.

"It's both. It happens without me choosing it. But it depends on how deeply you know it. If you know those things that deep, I'd have the knowledge."

"Was there anything that would help you retain that knowledge?" Hank feels bad that he has to use the word 'was'. 'Is' feels too heavy when someone's been stripped of something so fundamentally essential to their character.

Maybe the right person could give it back, though. If shit can rebuild people. Considering the struggle David just had with a tattoo he's not going to bring it up. Fuckin' hope is shit anyway. All that Hank can be sure of is that some people have the ability to push through.

"What is that place like when things are good?" he finally asks as well.

Yeah, the word 'was' happens to be one that David lives with way too much. "I couldn't when it started. It wasn't until after my powers were lost that some telepaths removed my mental blocks."

Hope is the worst thing, and David doesn't bother focusing on it. But the better question, and David smiles at the question. There were a bit of times where it was amazing.

"My drama teacher was blue, furry, and a teleporter. Seriously, best example of a dramatic entrance ever."

"I can only guess how they were on Halloween. I know what most people would do if they were teleporters."

Hank's never heard of Nightcrawler, his fandom doesn't run that deep. However, he can appreciate a teenager's wild (if true) stories for what they are. Nice reminiscing about weird fuckin' guys with blue hair. He'd probably have a lot of fun memories about the same thing.

"You get to do anything good in there personally?"

"Halloween is a bit less intimidating when the school is actually haunted. But Jeremy was a great classmate after he calmed down," David muses.

What? Their ghost goes to school with them. And the field trips could be good at times too. Not like he'd ever have gone to New York City otherwise.

"Rebuilt Cerebro. Built a replacement Danger Room. Was an instructor. Helped stop a Skrull invasion and stop the Hulk on rampage. Yeah, I did some good."

And now the Hulk just got name-dropped as a real person. Okay. Just uh... you know what? That's fine, too. Only a touch nightmarish there's a giant green living moodswing out there.

"Was the ghost stuff a mutant related thing or did he just decide not to fuck off after he died or-"

There's some complications here that he never thought he'd be asking. But he's in a fucking place full of weird ass aliens and magic and he really needs to learn this stuff. "...I take it Skrulls are aliens?"

Of course Bruce Banner is a person. Truth, Hank, is far stranger than fiction. And Xavier's academy had been attacked because Hulk held Charles responsible for the death of his wife. That's weird.

"He teleported as the school exploded. He became a ghost. But with the same powers still. So he kept going to school. And the Skrull are an alien empire, green creatures that are shape-shifters."

Hank could practically listen to David talk about his home with a mild look of bewilderment all day and be very interested, if not perpetually confused.

"Yeah I was thinking that or a term for some disease-carrying bug. You've done a lot, huh? What do you do for fun? Just like, normal stuff fun. I remember music and the strong opinions on pizza. What else? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Bad influence friend?"

There has to be more to this kid's life than getting bombed and fighting aliens and learning the proper ways to punch people.

Fun? David just looks at Hank. What was fun? He hadn't had anything like that in a very long time. Except, you know, the brief version of it that he had in those moments between the horrors.

"I guess Tommy was a bad influence friend. But we knew each other two days. But I was alone back then. I'll be alone here as well. The work will be enough to pass the time."

"No! No no no. You gotta at least go get a fuckin' book or somethin' while you're out. Not an instruction manual. A funny autobiography or a fictional thing. Or some craft supplies. I can come back to you when I have more info. This person isn't someone that's gonna get caught by leaving a hot trail. They know better. They're a person that's gonna get caught with common acquaintances familiar with the tools they use.

"I'll even pitch in my credits and help you get it. But you gotta actually do an enjoyable thing. If you don't, you start-"

He makes a motion around his head. Fucking words... Words are assholes and sometimes all that comes is a jumbled thought.

"-You need something. Or I can say, after doing this for a few decades, if you leave it alone it definitely gets to be a bit too much."

Thing is, he doesn't want to relax. He just wants to find a way home. Find... something more than another miserable job on another miserable world. David shoves his hands into his pockets and just keeps walking.

"My job is miserable and I'm doing a lot here. There isn't really time to rest."

"What the hell kind of work do they have you doing?"

Still, this poor kid deserves a scrap of time to himself. More than that, he's seen what happens to wayward teens. Ones with too many expectations, the ones that are driven to break because of the sheer lack of freedom to have one thing that's really, truly theirs. Even if it's just a hobby or an idea or just fucking something.

"Tech support," David groans. If there was ever anything in his life he hated more than Tech Support, he figured it was probably something to do with how Scott Summers apparently went mad with power in the whole 'fuck it all, mutant homeworld, make up a mutant assassin force, etc'.

"I hate tech support so much. And it's a full-time job. Add in this and a few other favors I'm doing..."

He shrugs. Life sucks, he's used to it.

"I'll apologize in advance for the day that I call for some assinine technical shit that I couldn't wrap my brain around."

That is a job that is nothing but stress and suffering and ungratefulness.

"Not an easy job. You get the verbal version of shit thrown at you that I get. Every fuckin' time there was a Detroit riot back in the teens? Rotten vegetables. Sometimes literal shit. I got no doubt that it's that bad."

But that's beside the point.

"At least consider it, alright? Postpone a favor here and there. It's not worth breakin'." He still holds on by his fingertips sometimes, and sometimes he feels himself slip.

"So long as you promise not to wreck our friendship by not listening to me when I give you instructions on troubleshooting," David throws right back at Hank. He can preemptively tell someone off for stupidity? And not get fired? Down for that. And it sounds like Hank is from a future where there is plenty of tech, the guy should be able to handle himself.

David might be wrong.

"Answers matter, Hank. But I'll see about maybe trying to figure out something else to do sometimes."

"They do, but... answers matter to a point in not just becoming a machine meant to perform tasks. If you do that, then you're not a person anymore. You're just this thing meant to solve problems. You need to be more than that."

There had been this moment where Connor was on a rooftop. He could have chased an android, or he could have saved Hank, teetering off the edge after having been shoved. He'd chosen Hank rather than chasing answers. He suspects that David is the type of guy that would turn back and save a friend. But sometimes you have to save yourself.

"...And yeah, I'll try. I admit, I fuckin' suck at technology. Fuckin' pairing me up with an android was one of the stupidest stunts that my captain coulda done." But he sounds fond, anyway. Fowler didn't choose poorly.

Oh, but people view their tech support as machines performing a task. And people like to curse machines. So yes, he is just a thing meant to solve problems. But it's not like he has a reason to go out.

But Hank isn't wrong. David would save a friend. But he has issues with loss of friends. And faith in being able to find an answer later.

"And yet you seem happy at the choice."

"Yeah, well..." he sounds pretty fond still, "Turns out that tech is pretty good at self-repair so I figured I'd keep him around. I just uh... hope he doesn't think I abandoned him. I mean, the alternative isn't great either. He'll be lookin' for me. But maybe if he at least has Sumo with him- Sumo's my dog -he can focus on something. I don't wan to go back and find out he didn't have anything. That happens to androids sometimes, that get abandoned."

He gets weirdly flustered with his worry there, and he actually fidgets with his hands briefly, wearing a concern that definitely goes beyond just partnerly.

"I mean, we could just be computer simulations," David suggests. What? He doesn't mind throwing that out there. Still, he doesn't think it seems likely. Just because why would the computer in charge care about simulating people and lying to them?

Still, David hopes that partner of Hank's has the dog. Give him something to keep going for. Because abandonment... that hurts. David knows it has to.

"Forgive me if it's prying, Hank, but... Could I ask you to tell me more about this partner of yours?"

They're still walking, still wandering the streets. Perhaps it isn't the best conversation for such a situation, but clearly Hank has some things he might need to get off of his chest. Perhaps the man just needs someone to talk to. And dammit, David can't get fully out of psychology mode.

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