May 02 11:00:31 106 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Mon May 02 11:00:31 106 PA.
This room is the same as thousands of other waiting rooms, reverberating back through the history of the multiverse. If it were empty, one would be able to look it over - one of the overhead fluorescent lights flickering in the corner - and see a place where injured people are crammed until somebody who might be able to help becomes available. The speckled off-white linoleum tiles stretch across the room, with several rows of somewhat uncomfortable looking chairs occupying a large portion of it. Reinforced to support a wide-range of weights and sizes, the chairs themselves lack any sort of padding for ease of cleaning, while their dark blue colour clashes slightly with the greenish hue of the walls.
The room is rarely empty, however, with injured and sick people from all over the dregs and less fortunate of Kingsdale coming and going with a (relatively) quick turnover. Though many of the chairs are bolted down, the few that aren't are oft pulled out of place to accommodate a hobo's broken and bleeding leg, or ragged mother's sick child. One in the know of current gang relations in the dregs might also be surprised to see opposing gang members avoiding eye-contact in opposite corners of the room, waiting for their most recent gunshot wounds to be tended to - possibly from the same shootout.
The pressure valve of the room lies through two aqua double-doors that are flanked on either side by desks. One of the desks is manned by constantly rotating secretaries who both handle the mass of paperwork that the hospital generates, and make sure the flow of patients remain constant. The other desk is often manned by large, burly men, who - despite the fact that they are presently only wearing nondescript black MDC armour - one might see leaving the building wearing a plethora of Colours, and one might do well to avoid just a few meters away from the hospital. In fact, they would likely do well to avoid them now as well, as it might be a Long Walk Home otherwise.
He's early! This may bode well. Then again, he may be here to make sure the second part of his agreement occurs, which is decidedly less smooth. The young man's clad in bright white slacks and a navy polo, the scrubs turned in for wash, a faint smell of cinnamon about him. The night was a bit crazier than usual, with a shooting in the dregs keeping the local gangs busy. So far nobody directly involved has been brought in, just a few sprains and minor lacerations from people getting away from the action, but sooner or later everyone expects to see casualties brought in by the homeboy ambulance service. Waving at someone down the hall, Sebastien just grins and calls back, "Not tonight -- evil to thwart, and all that." Winking, the young man slips back to peer through the blinds into the lab, silently hunting his quarry. He's not afraid. He's totally relaxed. He's off work!
The lab might be expected to be in quiet, for a romantic, seductive setting. Instead, the lights are on and Maya is definitely home, possibly with a rock band from the noise. Inside, the setting is not precisely romantic, with the large metal table covered in samples. It might be best not to look closer at the samples, to discover what they actually are. Maya herself is still in her lab coat, her hair up in bunches that have been plaited, so that they swing around when she moves, and move she does, almost leaping from machine to machine, talking to them, and pausing to talk to the big picture of Joachim that hangs over her monitor.
The young man presses the door open, slipping inside with nary a sound. Sebastien's right eyebrow quirks, thick arms folding before him, overseeing the lunacy with a sort of bemused curiosity. Taking careful stock of which machines she's using, the young knight walks in front of one to which she keeps returning and leans against it, his broad, warm bulk filling that space while he crosses his ankles, dips his chin, and lets a sly grin flitter over his features as he waits for her to once again complete the cycle. Fishing for scientists!
Maya has paused by Joachim's picture, her hands moving as she explains a theory to him, her voice soft enough to avoid being overheard by the man, and then she spins on her heel, heading directly towards the machine, her steps stopping immediately as she realises the man is there. "Sebastien." She greets him flatly, her mouth tightening. She steps forward, reaching past him to open the door, pulling a tray of vials from it. "Your balm is on the table." Placed in the middle of the gruesome samples, in a little space.
Hm. Sebastien watches Maya go about her work, and steps back towards that table. Little bits of flesh in jars. Swallowing, the young knight reaches in, carefully not touching anything else as he takes up entirely too much room in her workspace. "So ah, there is a change of heart then?" he wonders, carefully snatching his balm and lifting it free, as delicate as a grabber game in a video arcade. "And plainly your fear for my pretensed leverage has waned," he notes, glancing back at that enlarged photo curiously.
Maya puts the vials down delicately, in the place where the balm was, before she turns to him, resting her hands on her hips for a moment before she speaks, and then her hands move, emphasizing each word. "Yes. I thought about it and decided the word wasn't leverage, its blackmail, and if you'd just asked for a date, I'd have gone out with you." She moves forward as she talks, walking towards him, looking unlikely to stop. "So I told the Director myself. So." She stops dead in front of him, hands on her hips, staring up into his face.
The young knight's eyebrows raise, his smile widening. "Good for you," he applauds, sounding genuine about it. "And how is it your friend took this news of your inability to think with his chiseled visage staring back at you?" He doesn't make any move, nor twitch from his place so firmly embedded in her lab. Sebastien's blue eyes lift from Maya, gazing back across the lab to catch a better look at that photo, neck craning as he does.
There might be the tiniest hint of a flush in her cheeks, and she turns back to her samples, selecting the next one and moving to another machine to start a process up. "He took it fine. I explained everything and he was understanding and nice about it." She closes the door on the samples, pressing a few buttons before she turns back to Sebastien. "I don't understand why you thought you had to do it like that. I mean, it isn't like I haven't been out dancing with you, or don't talk to you, ..." She frowns, her lips pursing as she stares at him.
Sebastien nods meaningfully at that, just staring at Maya with a knowing look. He delicately uncrosses his arms from before his broad chest, twisting his hands about and bracing himself against the table he leans against so that one leg dangles idly below him. "Mademoiselle," he broaches, a little smile touching his lips, "Try to remember back to that dance night. Is it that you remember what was happening before I tried to drag you away?" He lets that settle a moment, his toe swinging back in the opposite direction, "And in the lab when I came in. You were just as happy to see me as I you, I think, and you know just how happy I was to see you." He grins at that, and raises his eyebrows. Staring at Maya once again, adding, "I enjoy the game. In both cases, when it seemed I was asking nothing you would not give of yourself freely, I simply took. Not because I was afraid you could not give consent, mademoiselle, but because I knew you would."
Maya's lips tighten as she listens to his comments. She doesn't smile in return, her face remaining serious. "I remember perfectly well dancing with you, consenting. I remember perfectly well hugging you. Consenting." Her hands do gesture, her finger pointing at his chest. "I enjoy the game, but my body is mine, my actions are mine and you don't ever get to decide for me what I do, who I do it with..." She shakes her head, a flash of temper showing in her eyes as she spins away, returning to a beeping machine that demands her attention. "I might have, Sebastien, if you'd asked me. But you didn't, so you got no."
Sebastien says, "You're almost right," Sebastien notes, his smile faltering. His lips purse, twitching fintly as he eyes Maya. Finally, he explains, "You always have a choice. You could come with me or no. You chose no, and so I left. See? I've never removed your ability to choose. I have changed the question, as I did with your picture. You got to choose between a date and your secret kept -- what you would have all along enjoyed -- and this ... thing, you chose otherwise. I am not sure I understand you, mademoiselle. And I will not ask again." He presses from the tabletop then, winking down at the darkling scientist to add, "But I did enjoy the dance, mademoiselle. You will be good one day.""
"I got to choose between telling my boss I talk to an inflated picture of him when I'm anxious, or doing what you wanted." Her comments is quiet, her face serious, "Oui, I play hard and I work hard, and I take my work seriously, and now he thinks I am a little mad." Maya moves past him, closing her door, shutting out the rest of the hospital before she turns to face him, her back to the door. "I like dancing with you. I like the flirt and the tease, and perhaps the tumble might have been fun, Sebastien. But I valued the Director's opinion of me." She moves from the door then, responding to a machine that beeps softly, repeatedly, her movements more sedate than ever.
Sebastien laughs at that, raising his hands in defeat. "It is not crazy, silly Maya, it is adorable!" That word hangs, with Sebastien grinning down at her. He waves at the picture and adds, "I think perhaps just talking to him might be more satisfying in the long run, but it is like your diary. A sounding board. This thing is only crazy and embarrassing if you let it be. And, my dear, you are letting it." He shrugs and sakes his head, adding, "I know you are angry with me. Everything I say will be wrong, but please think of it some time. I did not force you to do anything. Never was a gun held to your head. When you say 'no,' or 'stop,' I have obeyed immediately. And when I say you hold just as much power with your colleagues' opinions of you, take it to heart." He shrugs, and presses off of that table, stretching as he frowns at the close door. "And I now have an awful lot of wine to drink alone!"
The door on the machine gets slammed and she turns, spinning on her heel to face him, her lips tight. She moves to the table, putting the sample down with more care than she showed the machine, before facing him again. "I'm not angry, I'm embarrassed. I like him, and I respect him, and I felt stupid telling him that. Do you know how rarely I feel stupid?" She moves to the computer, settling on her stool, her hands fidgeting. "Yes, when I said no, you stopped." A hesitation as she puts her thoughts into the right order to be spoken, her forehead creasing, her teeth capturing her lower lip briefly. "Perhaps it is more that I will walk or dance beside you, but Sebastien, you can't push me into something." The comment about the wine though, that actually gets a smile and a shake of her head. "He said yes." She comments obscurely, turning to click the computer a few times, her fingers tapping against its screen.
"Bon apetit," Sebastien relays, ducking his chin and reaching for the door. The knob turns under his hand, still facing Maya, and when it slips open he's gone moments later. Leaving in his wake a multitude of emotions. The most prominent likely being relief. Though soon, she might catch a distinctive scent wafting through the room. Spicy, nose-twitching, and familiar. That jar of balm sits atop the machine against which Sebastien leaned, lid no place to be found. Left behind, but certainly not forgotten.
