ArchivedLogs:Pings

Pings
Dramatis Personae Doug, Jackson	2013-10-17 (Part of Prometheus TP.)
Location <NYC> 503 {Doug} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is, for the most part, laid out like most of the others in the building. A small entryway opens up into a living area occupied by a worn-looking leather sofa covered in a multi-colored afghan. In front of that, a low cost-effective coffee table is generallly littered with tech and gaming magazines, post-it flags stuck to various pages. The kitchen is separated from the living area by a bar-island with two high stools. Down a small hallway, two doors stand face to face, vigilant in keeping the bedrooms beyond secure, while a third, facing the living room, leads to the bathroom. Throughout the apartment, various gaming posters have been framed and hung carefully, most of them classic arcade titles. Friday, Friday, Friday...the end of the week, and this one is a nice one, with clear, sunny skies and the air cool enough to give people out and about a little bounce to their step. Cool enough that a lot of windows in the neighborhood are open, allowing the noise of the street to be carried in on those cool breezes. It is the kind of day when young men should be out in the park, possibly meeting people and being social. Instead, Doug is here in his apartment. Oh, sure, the windows are open, but the blonde seems unaware of it. Dressed in just a pair of cutoff sweats, Doug sits on his couch, three laptops open in front of him. On one of the screens is what appears to be thumbnails of the various cameras set up around the building. On another, there is a program running, sifting through images as they're pinged on the cameras. The third is the one that Doug is working on, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed as his attention shifts among all three screens. Somewhere, an iPod is providing the music -- Serge Gainsbourg purring out a 60s pop love song in smokey French. Knock knock knock! This comes quick outside Doug's door. Jax is standing there, looking -- actually remarkably /whole/ and bright. Glittery makeup over his eye, a dusting of glimmer on his lips. Cheerful silver-star-spangled eyepatch, comfortable sky-blue and black-mesh UFO pants, a black t-shirt reading 'believe in faeries' with a pair of butterfly wings on its back. He bounces, restless, on his toes as he waits. Doug glances up at the knock, tipping his head and studying the door for a moment before he pushes to his feet and pads over to open it. Jackson gets a wide smile. "Hey, Jax," the teenager says, scratching idly along his ribcage and glancing back into his apartment at the computer station before returning his attention to the older man. "You sure look like you're feeling good," he says, his grin slipping to one side as he steps back. "You want to come in? I'm just futzing with the security cameras." "They all still workin'? Dusk looped me into it but I ain't been checkin' lately, it's been --" Jax steps in through the doorway, eye skipping around the apartment and then returning to Doug. "We're prob'ly gonna need them soon." His hands drop to his side, fidgeting with one end of the black drawstring on his pants. "I'm feeling --" This just ends in a quiet 'heh', a lopsided smile pulling up at his lips. "S'been a week. How's things wih you?" "The cameras are good," Doug confirms. "They're picking up some new faces, so I'm just giving them a once-over, since I've found some actual /time/." He jerks one shoulder in a shrug. "They needed updating. There's some furry guy that keeps going on the roof that I don't know." The blonde frowns at the thought the cameras might serve their purpose soon as he moves towards the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, uncapping one before he brings the other back to Jackson, offering it with a small lift of his eyebrows. "Did you guys go on a run?" he guesses, looking back over at the computers. "Is that why there's all those new faces?" Jax takes the water with a bob of his head, uncapping it immediately to take a gulp. "We did," he confirms, his smile still crooked, "just in the nick'a time, too. Government shutdown meant the places were largely destaffed. Hit 'em up just before Congress finished gettin' it's act -- well." His nose wrinkles. "Ain't really /together/, is it? But more together." He lifts a hand to scuff through brilliantly flame-hued hair, tipping his other hand up with a sheepish-apologetic look. "S'kinda why I -- came. To see how you'd feel about --" He waves the water bottle towards the apartment. "People. In your space. An' t'ask you t'kinda be a little -- extra on alert with the camera feeds? It'll be weird cuz there's a /lotta/ new faces but. I can go through an' tell you which are OK an' -- then if any new ones turn up --" His lips press together for a moment. Doug's eyebrows hike at the confirmation, and then fall into a furrow. "Is everyone okay?" he asks, gesturing with the bottle to indicate...well, Jackson can probably guess who he means. He tips the bottle to his lips as he listens to Jackson's reason for coming up, and his eyebrows hike again. "Really?" he asks, and there's just the /tiniest/ tone of hopefulness to it. Like this is THE CALL or something. "I've got plenty of space. A whole other room, even." He grins, and motions towards the living room. "Bring 'em up," he says. "Although, anyone who futzes electronics probably isn't the best candidate." The request for extra vigilance gets a more solemn sort of affirmation in a slow nod. "I keep on top of them pretty regularly," he assures Jackson, reaching out to bump him lightly with his elbow. "But I'll make sure I'm always connected to them. They /should/ ping you and the others that are looped in, if they pick up unauthorized faces or wea...pons." The word gets a bit stretched as Doug actually /considers/ getting that sort of ping. Maybe for the first time ever. Jackson lifts a hand to his jaw, at the question, his eye closing slowly for a moment, then opening again. "Actually, yeah. It was our first time ever without a single casualty." His brow creases. "Without a single while we were there. We were too late to help a -- friend." A faint shiver ripples through his back, and he answers Doug's hopefulness with a nod. "There is someone who does, actually. Maybe I'll keep 'em at my place, I'm a luddite. Definitely away from you an' Dusk's. Thanks. We -- need all the hands we can get." His hand scuffs against his jaw, now; though it looks neatly clean-shaven there's a rasp of /sound/ with the motion, skin against stubble. "Thanks. That'd be a help. We're kinda on high-alert the next couple days. I'm /hopin'/ t'won't be nothin', but s'always good to be careful." Doug frowns, and his brow lowers into a deep V. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says sincerely, reaching up to squeeze Jackson's shoulder gently. "I hope you guys wrecked some stuff on your way out. Those bastards totally deserve it." He takes another swig from his bottle, and rolls his head on his neck with a popping sound. He manages a small, sunny smile, and bobs his head. "I'm always willing to help out," he says. "All you guys have to do is ask. Sometimes, you don't even have to do that." He lifts his shoulders, and recaps his bottle as he pads towards the living room to flop on the couch. He gives a little pat, as if inviting Jackson to join him, before he leans forward to poke at a keyboard gently. "Hopefully, it'll take them a couple of days to figure stuff out," he says. "In the meantime, I'll see what I can do about upgrading." Jackson moves towards the couch when invited, tucking himself in beside Doug with one leg curled up beneath him. "You want to go through the hits y'been gettin' lately so's I can tell you who's -- one'a the new folks? I don't think they should all be here all that /long/ but s'probably best if we aren't all gettin' alerted nonstop for days else we might -- start t'ignore the pings if it's actually serious." He lowers the bottle of water to his lap after another swig. "Hopefully." It's a soft tired breath of a word, shoulders briefly slumping before he pulls up straighter, smile returning to his face. "An' thanks. I don't know if I've told you how much this is -- normally jus' tryin' to keep an eye on things here t'make sure it's safe eats up so much energy it's hard to ever really relax, y'know? So it's nice to. Be able. T'sleep." Doug grins. "I've been saving them off into a file," he says. "So it should be pretty easy. Once you confirm 'em, I'll just hit a button, and they'll be okayed." He narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "You have a smartphone?" he asks, tipping his head. "I can probably whip up an app in a day or so that would let you add anyone we miss just by taking a picture of them. It should be pretty easy, since the phones should be in the net, and it's just a variation on the FRS we're already using." His nose twitches at the idea of more programming challenges, and his fingers flex slightly. Then he's reaching to open the forementioned file, which has images tiled much like the camera thumbnails. The thanks gets a bit of coloring in Doug's ears, and he ducks his head. "I should have thought of it sooner," he says apologetically. "Especially after you guys brought Josh and Parley and those guys home." He smiles, and leans in to bump against Jax. "Hey, if you're getting actual sleep, then I'm /really/ sorry I didn't do it sooner." "OhgoshJoshua." This comes out in a sudden rush that is almost laughter, though there's a wired edge of hysteria to it. "-- Almost lost him this time," Jax admits. "But he --" His lips twitch, his palm scrubbing at his eye. "Yeah, I gotta -- some Samsung thing. Nebula. Universe." He shrugs, sagging back into the couch to let his weight settle slowly in against Doug's. "Here --" Slowly, tiny glowing checkmarks start to appear, one by one, over some of the thumbnails as Jax examines them. This person, check! This person, check. A few he has to frown at for a while. Sluggish-tired-brain.