Capture 2

[panicswitched]

[ this is ashley magnus. this is ashley magnus swallowing her pride. mark your calendars, paradisa. this will likely never happen again.

she sounds on edge, but it's a different kind of on-edge than the kind when she last used the journal like this. today she's just got the tone of someone about to do something she'd rather not do but knows she needs to do. ]

Okay, so... Hi. Name's Ashley [ which just confirms for a lot of people what exactly her identity is thanks, james. ] and I'm really new still. I know I met a lot of you whackos -- [ ...did she really just say that? well, she never really had much of a brain-to-mouth filter... ] -- playing Twenty Questions or just by interrogation and I know I came off a bit... harsh. I should apologize for that. So... I'm sorry.

[ someone should really check if she's sick or discover that she's eaten dark chocolate today. ]

Um, if anyone wants to chat, I promise I won't bite your head off. I'm just... gonna go down to the kitchen.

[ aaand she's done with the public feed at the moment, before she makes a fool of herself.

Nikola Tesla ]

Okay, so... [ inhale sharply. mark your calendar, tesla. ] I still don't like you, but I have a question. How long has it been since I... y'know, kicked it? [ smooth, ashley, smooth. ] I think I might owe you something, too.

[ Katniss Everdeen ]

Do you mind if I come to the shooting range sooner than I said last time? I think I need to go kill something fake. [ before she kills something real. ]


[ an hour or so later she's going to make a fool of herself anyway. the public feed opens up again and she's got a question for the lot of you. ]

Why do I have the sudden urge to go find animals. Like normal cats or dogs. There's not anything different about them! They're not abnormals! Why do I want them?

Comments

[workaphilic]

[When she gets to the kitchen, she may find that there's a lovely looking cake on the counter. He took great pains to redecorate and disguise it; it's about as harmless looking as your average vanilla-vanilla layer cake.

Beside the cake is a man, with most of his upper body stuck in the fridge.]

Oh, yes.

[He pulls out a small jar of olives and sets it on the counter next to the cake. Are they meant to go together? Are they not? Hard to say.

He makes eye contacts and smiles (for all appearances) politely.]

Afternoon.

[panicswitched]

[ well. that wasn't there when she was last down here. she pauses, glancing at the cake for a moment. ]

That's new.

[ blink. oookay then. she gives him a nod in response, not looking the most friendly, but certainly not the most aggressive, either. ]

So what idiot put a cake there and expected it not to get eaten?

[workaphilic]

[The corner of his mouth quirks.]

Me.

Though I never expected it not to get eaten. Quite the opposite, actually.

[panicswitched]

[ staring at him and then at the cake. ]

So what's wrong with it?

[ because clearly this is the answer to all cakes placed on tables in kitchens. ]

[workaphilic]

[He glances down at it, and then gives her a bit of a sideways glance, like she's being the suspicious one.]

Why should there be anything wrong with it?

[panicswitched]

[ she holds her hands up for a moment in surrender, as though she's being perfectly logical here. ]

Hey, people sometimes try to give away broken things they don't want. I was just checking.

[ not that she's going straight for the cake at the moment. she's just side-eyeing it as she looks about the kitchen. ]

[workaphilic]

[He watches her, and the apparent suspicion seems to give way to amusement.]

It was practice. I'm hardly about to eat it all myself.

[panicswitched]

[ give it a little more needling. she's cracking. ]

Cooking practice? Wow. You're all domestic.

[ ashley. ]

[workaphilic]

[He shrugs.]

Some of us have a leg up over the others.

[That, at least, is true. He's a good cook. If he had actually baked the cake, it'd be check-plus.]

[panicswitched]

[ that's good to know. she's just staring at it a little more. eyeing it. like it might bite her. ]

What kind is it? Vanilla all over?

[workaphilic]

[He nods.]

Icing and cake both.

[He eyes her, tucking his hands into his pockets.]

Your free to try it if you like.

[panicswitched]

[ her sense is screaming that she doesn't want to touch it, reminders of dana whitcomb permeating her mind. but she's curious.

and it really looks good.

a minute stretches into two as she examines the cake. two into three into five. and then she very carefully starts to cut a piece. another five minutes are spent examining it from every angle, smelling it to make sure. she's even tempted to dig a talon into it, but she refrains, using a finger instead.

it's weird and it tastes weird. for a moment, she frowns. ]

Not bad.

[ give her another few for it to kick in. ]

[workaphilic]

[He watches with undisguised interest.]

I'd like to hear your thoughts. It's an experimental technique, you see.

[panicswitched]

[ jerk. she's going to scream when she figures it out.

if she figures it out.

for now, though, she just chews slowly, as though she's expecting it to be housing some sort of drug. ]

Experimental technique? What kind of response is that?

[ pause. ] Are there animals here? [ the leap makes sense to her no it doesn't. ]

[workaphilic]

[He'll let the first question go by. He's a scientist, after all. And a frequently bored one.]

Oh, plenty. Dogs, cats, ducks. Can't walk to town without stumbling on one or two.

[panicswitched]

[ she's known plenty of scientists in her life, though this guy is suddenly giving her tesla vibes. and that's not a compliment. but of course, it's far too late for that now. ]

You know that sounds like a... good idea.

[ maybe. she looks a little confused. ]

Cake's good, by the way.

[workaphilic]

I'm thrilled. Help yourself.

[He doesn't seem that thrilled.]

Speaking of [he stoops to open a cabinet, where there is a puppy snoozing on a towel next to some pots and pans] have you met Gladstone?

[Using his flatmate's dog to manipulate people during an experiment? Check.]

[panicswitched]

[ she eyes him, but the puppy catches her attention. ]

Awww look at him. He's so cute. Is he yours?

[workaphilic]

My flatmate's, technically, but he's mine enough. Tuckered himself out, apparently. Good morning, Gladstone.

[The puppy yawns a puppy yawn.]

[panicswitched]

He's adorable. Can I pet him?

[workaphilic]

Please, be my guest.

[panicswitched]

[ she does so then! and she's resisting the urge to pick it up.

in a minute or two she'll realize this is weird and... probably leave... but until then--! ]

[workaphilic]

[He hovers, watching very closely. The dog revels in the attention, tongue lolling and tail wagging as he presses his head closer to her hand.]

Gift from the castle, actually. Could be you'll be equally as lucky eventually.

["Lucky" is not the word he'd use to describe the receipt of Gladstone from the castle, but if the situation calls for it.]

[panicswitched]

Careful or someone might steal ya.

[ she's teasing, really. but he's really cute... ]

[workaphilic]

[He lifts his chin. Still pleasant:]

I'd advise against it.