ArchivedLogs:Science and Secrets

Science and Secrets
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Kisha, Peter	2013-02-21 Peter is testing his glue in the science lab; Ivan brings snacks; Kisha speaks Russian!
Location <XS> Classroom Two
Peter is multi-task extraordinare. He's showered and redressed since last night; he was in desperate need of it, too--his hair is slicked back, his glasses perched precariously atop of his nose--he's dressed, today, in a more 'school-appropriate' attire--a blue collar shirt with tie (though it's untucked, and the sleeves are rolled up--plus, those weird funky gloves of his are *shoved* down in his black dresspant pockets, poking out). He's sitting at one of the desks in the science room--a laptop open on one side of him, a bunch of beakers and a microscope arranged on the other. He seems to be... typing on the laptop while *simultaneously* testing something with the beakers. There's several petri dishes out next to him--each is filled with a strange, white-ish gray glop of substance. About six in all. He's also got a stop-watch with him, set out in front of the petri dishes. It's currently running. Thanks to a combination of size, unusual layout and the considerable number of outright weird people wandering around distracting the poor new girl it's no real shock that Kisha has got lost on her first full day at the school. Which is how she comes to be outside the science lab, dressed for all intents in identical clothing as yesterday except without her outdoor jacket revealing forearms that are both covered in bandages. "Ahh, a familiar face... Even if in an unfamiliar location," Kisha greets with an idle wave, her own attention occasionally flicking to some kind of frankenstein device that seems to be a tablet computer with odd bits spliced in. "Where the hell am I? And does this place come with a map I can download? So I can someday find my way out again..." Peter perks, blinking owlishly; he looks rather small behind all the *stuff* in front of him--he actually has to sit up to get his eyes far enough over it to see Kisha. "Oh! Hi! This is, uh, one of the science classrooms. I--you're in Xavier's mansion," he says, starting small, before adding: "First floor, uh... science classroom." The contents of one of the six petri dishes have started... doing something. The grey goop has started to get... goopier? It looks like it's slowly melting. And 'boiling'--bubbles are popping along the surface as the goop shrinks and evaporates. As this happens, Peter blinks--and snatches up the stop-watch, clicking it. He then leans over the petri dish, sniffs it, and makes a face. Kisha winces. "You know that traditionally if you're unaware of the properties a substance has then it tends to be a bad idea to inhale the products. It could turn out to be toxic." She idly wanders a little closer in spite of her own warning, after all if it /is/ toxic Peter has just sucked most of it up. "What're you upto if you don't mind my asking?" Peter blinks up at Kisha: "It's... vinegar!" he says, before adding: "And glue. I mean, I guess it's--*weird* glue, but it's just--" Peter's eyes widen for a moment, realizing something. SHE IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SEEING THIS. But a moment later, and he calms himself down. Easy, Parker. For all she knows this is, like, *paste*. "I'm just trying to, uh, test something--solvents. And look something up," Peter adds, gesturing at the laptop. If Kisha looks, he's got... about eight different webpages open. One of them is for Bellevue, the New York medical facility--all the rest are wikipedia articles on solvents, glues, and spider-webs? Actually, she might not catch that last one, because he is rapidly moving to close all of *those* links. "Vinegar. I haven't heard that one before," Kisha says with a smirk. "Look if you're into sniffing glue that's none of my business. Didn't expect it from an upmarket school like this, but each to their own." She wanders idly around the classroom. "Do you think they have any Silicon boules here? Or will I have to try order one from ebay?" "I actually got the idea because it's sometimes used to dissolve spihhhhh... spiiih.... SPY STUFF." Peter interrupts himself. "Like, in, old spy movies, they'd use vinegar to dissolve... egg-shells." Yes. YES. SUCH a sweet save. Peter, you're a *genius*. "Silicon boules? I--I don't know. They have a *lot* of stuff here but you gotta ask permission before they'll let you touch it. But they're pretty cool with letting you use stuff, I mean I basically only have been here three days and they're letting me use petri dishes and microscopes and vinegar, although Doctor McCoy said I couldn't touch the sulphuric acid," and at this, Peter sounds... *regretful*. Like this was a big let-down. "Not *yet* anyway, not without supervision," he adds. There's a time for research and snacks, and then there's a time for research and /extra/ snacks. The door to the classroom bursts open to a pile of snacks holding a stumbling boy hostage underneath of it. Ivan has raided the ground's kitchen for all the good stuff that didn't have any names written on it, the top of the plastic-crackling pile obscuring half of his face as he moves forward and straight into a table and chair with a ker-clank. After a brief detour around said table and chair, the pile of snacks with legs moves into a different direction. Whether the messy-haired boy's seen Kisha at all seems a mystery through all of his focused staring over snackpackets, but he seems to be going for Peter. Roughly. Or that table near him, maybe. Ker-clank. "They won't let you use sulphuric acid by yourself?" Kisha asks, then with a glance at the mystery man and his pile of snacks she adds "And don't worry I'll keep quiet about your... problem." She nods at the bottle of solvent. "I guess I can make do with a big bag of sand for now or maybe I'll have to swipe some sandpaper if things get especially desperate." "Problem? What problem? I don't have any prob--IVAN you brought snacks," Peter announces, and he's promptly springing up to help, snagging various packages of PRETZELS and related items, depositing them on the table besides the computer and petri dishes and beakers with a blurring rapidity. "Also I think that NEEDLER is in Bellevue," he adds, and Peter has somehow managed to open one of the bags of pretzels and ohGod how can someone eat that fast *without* spilling crumbs everywhere? "I dunno if they'll let us visit him though because I think they're gonna be pressing criminal charges he's there for--I think one of the newsites said psych evaluation?--but if we can't see him we can send him a letter," and then he's looking at Kisha, who's probably wondering what the *hell* he's talking about: "Oh right hi this is Ivan, Ivan this is Kisha, Kisha Ivan controls *bugs*. Also we're investigating the guy who went all NEEDLES in Central Park last night." Peter also adds, to Ivan: "Oh and Kisha doesn't sleep and I guess that's her mutant power?" All of Peter's words either go straight over Ivan's head, or he's just not showing his interest at the moment. After dumping the remainder of the snacks he brought onto a different table, and stands still for a second while supposedly taking in all the information. He then turns to face Kisha, eyes blankly staring. When Peter mentions the power to forgo sleep, the eyes narrow, dubiously. Maybe this one's power apart from bug is also Not Talking. Kisha glances at Peters 'Solvents'. "Sure.. if you say so.. no problem at all," she agrees in the least convincing tone ever. "And hi Ivan, nice meeting you. Yeah I don't sleep... That's my power. Sort of.. mostly.. although the rest isn't very interesting. I'm sure you both know how that goes! Bugs? As in listening devices or the anthropods?" There is a momentary pause as she checks her tablet computer and tweaks one of the odd plug-ins. "I wonder if I should put a signal booster somewhere in the grounds so I can tap unsecured residential wifi. For uhm emergencys. Why are you so interested in the guy from the news anyway?" "Because he--" A moment, here, as Peter does some quick, dirty calculations. Keeping track of *which* bits of data are classified and which bits aren't is getting to be harder and harder...! "--shot me, with a quill, it was _totally_ nuts. Also I think he didn't mean to and we were gonna go try and see him and tell him it's okay." Then: "Ivan's into the crawly kind. He's totally *covered* in bugs. He uses them to groom himself. It's crazy-cool," Peter confesses. "Like, he's covered in spiders _right now_!" Ivan scoots one step closer to Peter, expression remaining neutral as he stares. If a bit eerily so. To be fair, though, he doesn't /look/ like he's covered in bugs...? ... Oh no wait, there it is. As though on command, two spiders lower themselves from his hair onto his face, one settling on his eyebrow and one on the side of his jaw without response. Well then. "During the incident?" Kisha wonders, her eyes fixing on the spiders. "Isn't that deeply uncomfortable? The spiders that is, not the being hit by spikes. I'm pretty sure I can imagine how that would feel.." She frowns, her eyes flicking away from the spiders to Peter. "Look why do you want to see a guy who is mentally unstable and who has already shot you once? Isn't that just asking for trouble?" Peter wrinkles his nose: "I don't think he's mentally unstable, I think he just *freaked*," Peter says, and by the way he says it, it sounds like he can relate. "Like, he was really trying *not* to shoot spikes, but somebody spat in his face and everyone was yelling and then--cops were pulling guns and he was trying not to shoot spikes but they just kept /coming/." Peter shifts again: "And he might get into a lot of trouble, too--I mean they probably would have just given him a ticket or something," and at this, Peter *bristles*, "but now that he shot spikes they might go after him for assault." Ivan simply shakes his head in answer to the spider question, at which the spiders withdraw again, into his hair. He picks up one of the snack bags blindly, and hops onto the edge of a table to sit back and listen. Much to his dismay, the snack bag he grabbed ends up being some dried fruit, but he hesitantly munches some down anyway. At least he's stopped staring for now, giving a quick and curious glance to what Peter was working on before, instead. Kisha shrugs indifferantly. "He could be be charged with attempted murder, reckless endangerment or if I was them I'd have the therapist find out he was mentally unstable and send him away to an institution where they can keep him drugged indefinately." She waves her hand. "I know that's what I'd do, fewer loose ends and less chance he could cause problems during a trial." Peter's placed six petri dishes down on the table; in each is a glop of white glue--or at least there *was*. One of the six has apparently recently just evaporated; only a few bubbling dollops are left--it's rapidly dwindling to nothing. A nearby stopwatch shows the time as being only about five minutes ago. He's apparently been testing solvents on the stuff. By the smell of it, the winner was 'vinegar'. When Kisha mentions the 'drugged indefinitely' bit, Peter peers at her: "I don't think they'll do that," he tells her. "And if they do--uh. We'll... I'll... think of something!" he adds, and he gives a sneaky glance toward Ivan--then back to Kisha: "I'm sure _somebody_ can do something." Very sneaky, Petey. Ivan cracks the briefest of smiles, chewing down some more dried fruit. But as his attention flits over each petri dish individually, he eventually finds himself a bit confused. One of his hands is lifted to point toward the petri dish that's got nothing in it, while he pops another dried bit of apple in his mouth with the other hand. These things are better than he thought they would be. Kisha tilts her head. "But why would they help? People very rarely care about anyone but themselves," she notes practically. "Not unless there is an angle they're working. Although I do suppose you're right. Indefinately is an awefully long time, in reality it'd be easier to fake a suicide. Look... it's really not a good idea to get involved in politics. Whatever you try will only put you in danger, expose you to exactly the sort of people who don't like mutants." "Vinegar," Peter explains to Ivan, before adding: "Needed a solvent for it." And then, to Kisha--he's forgotten that he's even *eating* those pretzels: "_Plenty_ of people care!" Peter insists, as his eyebrows squeeze and crunch together--his tone sounds borderline indignant. "I don't care about _politics_, I just don't want people getting hurt--and, and Idon'tcareifpeopledon'tlikeme," Peter finishes, that last 'word' sounding like a hasty (and bad) lie. Sure. Ivan's eyebrows raise, but he seems to be choosing to stay out of the argument for the time being, hopping off of his perch and meandering past Peter over to said vinegar. After scrutinizing it as thoughtfully as his face seems to be able to manage, his focus changes to another petri dish, where not /as/ much seems to have happened. And he just can't help himself. Slow, very slowly, he reaches a finger to poke whatever is in there with the one of the experimental globs. "Well... each to their own I guess. So long as I've got my contingency plans in place by the time the shit hits the fan," Kisha decides, consulting her tablet. "I'll just have to scan the grounds and surrounding area sooner than I'd planned. No matter, it's not like I can do a whole lot without being able to have an open flame in my room. What kind of a dumb rule is that? How am I supposed to weld without a flame?" "Be careful!" Peter says, although there's not a great deal of *panic* in his voice as Ivan reaches for--and pokes--that glob. It doesn't react; it feels precisely like a glob of thoroughly dried glue (secret SPECIAL glue) should feel. Peter quickly elaborates: "That one's just water. Uh, nothing in the third--that's the control," Peter adds with a blush, "and bleach, and vegetable oil, and lemon juice." Then, back to Kisha: "I'm pretty cool with no open flames in dorm rooms, honestly. I mean--I think Ivan had to go through a bunch of hoops just to have *spiders*, but it's not like spiders will escape and burn down the entire building." Then, a quick look to Ivan: "...right?" "Possibilities are endless." Ivan finally speaks, with exactly the accent one might expect from a Russian teenager still fairly fresh off the proverbial boat. Whether this answer was about the petri dishes he's still closely expecting or in response to Peter's question remains to be seen, though he does give a one-shouldered shrug. Kisha blinks, then in American accented Russian she replies. "So you /do/ speak? I was starting to wonder.." Before switching back to English. "You probably don't want to put your fingers in the bleach one. What is that stuff which you're trying to pretend isn't important anyway? For the record I've had generally very good results with using fire indoors." "It's just--glue," Peter mumbles. "I mean, it's just a weird sort of glue and I was messing with it and whattheheckyouspeakRUSSIAN?" Peter asks, jumping up straight and peering at Kisha. To be fair, Peter's knowledge of what Russian sounds like consists of Ivan's accent plus listening to the villains from various James Bond movies, but it sounds pretty much like that. Suddenly, something changes. Ivan straightens up, his attention switches back to Kisha, but this time to stare at her with one addition- a slowly growing smile. He may not have spoken to her directly, but she's managed to score a /few/ respect points for sure. In Russian, and subsequently in a considerably more confident voice, he answers in what Peter might assume is quite a chipper comment judging from the cheerful though slightly empty expression that accompanies it, "I speak. Just not generally to people who favour quick results over the value of a life. There are exceptions to the rule, though, apparently." "I was balancing the value of one life over another. I honestly think he'll get hurt if he blunders in carelessly," Kisha solemnly answers, back in Russian again. Then back to English for "The clue was in my name. Kisha Dorogoi, my Grandad was Russian and my Dad insisted I learn. Anyway I better get back to mapping the local area and putting together a bug out bag. Never can be too careful!"