ribs_grow_back: (It's time for your operation.)
RED Medic ([personal profile] ribs_grow_back) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2014-02-20 11:37 am

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines...


The meme for people who want to pick up a new muse or work the kinks out of a newish one.

How to:

1. Post a comment with your character. Include their name, canon, and preferences for the scene if you wish.
2. Leave the comment blank or set the scene, it's totally up to you.
3. Pick a scene type, get creative, then tag whoever you like!
4. Have fun!


1) ACTION: Fight? Car chase? Shoot-out? This scenario is for all your ass-kicking needs.
2) ANGST: Dealing with depression? A break-up? Maybe you're just sad? Here there be saddening scenes.
3) FLUFF: Just want to play out something adorable? Look no further!
4) ROMANCE: Looking for a ship to play out? Want to thread out a date? You got it all and more here.
5) CRACK: Why bother being serious when you can be over-the-top and ridiculous?
6) GENERAL: Got something that's similar to what's listed here, but not the same? Play it out anyway!
7) DO IT YOURSELF: Don't see anything here you like? Get creative!
biomechatronic: (wake him up)

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Down for either! Whatever you want to roll with, I'm good!]
yourmove: (015)

lemme know if I should change anything.

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-26 05:22 am (UTC)(link)
"Dr. Norton."

It was five hours after the press conference. Alex Murphy was stuck in that stasis between needing to be visible after the arrest while they also ran damage-control at the same time - he caught snatches of conversations around him as he walked down the hall with the doctor, whispers that "he'll make us look bad" if he opened his mouth and actually tried to hold a conversation like a human being.

Thanks to the lowered levels of dopamine, the words slid off him as irrelevant. As there was no determined threat, Alex discarded the recordings, filed them for deletion.

His footsteps were louder than Norton's: where Norton had a pair of shiny black loafers, he had armor and actuators. They hissed quietly, adjusting for the floor sagging in places from the building's age. His head swiveled to stare at Norton with that so-neutral-it's-creepy look that kept spooking his coworkers. A pair of officers stepped back out of their way. Some of them shot Norton pitying looks - the others mostly looked disturbed or angry or a mix of both.

"I believe it's time for maintenance," Alex said, voice as disinterested as it had been at the press conference.
biomechatronic: (let's talk like reasonable men)


[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 05:33 am (UTC)(link)
Dennett never understood the big public shows. Not for OmniCorp, and not for the Detroit Police. He'd always done his best work in his own clinic, his own laboratory, without the need for what he could only describe with that cliche of 'dog and pony show'.

Only this time it was Alex on display, and not a trained animal. They still treated him like one though, sometimes, and Dennett felt part of the blame for that. He'd been the one to lower Alex's stimulus/response neurochemicals in the first place, so the flattened affect on the face Alex turned to him was his fault, his responsibility.

"Of course," he said, turning down the corridor toward the maintenance bay of the lab, punching in the key code for the door. He was exhausted, and maybe he was projecting it onto Alex. Either way, it just felt good to get away from the others. "Anything self-reporting?"

He could run a scan, of course, but it seemed more, well, humane, more human, to ask Alex himself if anything was wrong.
yourmove: (002)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-26 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
Another police officer might have asked for coffee or water or anything at all. Maybe shoot the breeze about the press conference or the Mayor's shitty idea of catering.

At least shrug.

Alex swiveled to follow Dr. Norton. There was never variation in how he took corners now: he always turned the head first, the chest came next and then the hips, as if it was arranged in segments instead of a breathing organic body. Biometrics from Norton informed him that he was perspiring slightly more than was usual for a man his age, a sign of nervousness paired with the way his finger slipped slightly punching in the code. Exhaustion, most likely. Alex understood public displays could be...tiring. Perhaps he didn't get a chance to drink the champagne OmniCorp had provided.

His footsteps fell heavier on the floor as carpet gave way to tiles and steel. He didn't stop to think about it like he might've months ago, his eyes looking far away for a brief second as he flipped through a list of diagnostics like a man might flip through a magazine. "Dorsoventral plating is loose."
biomechatronic: (stay in school kids)

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 07:08 am (UTC)(link)
Dennett had never been one for socializing, on any level. The engineering and medical degrees his field had required--the field he'd built, really--hadn't left a lot of time for social skills. He'd always been more at home with his work, and in that, at least, Alex is no exception.

Alex might be taller than he, far stronger, but he was familiar: Dennett knew Alex more than the cyborg knew himself, every wire, every neural relay, every biomechanical staging. And the lab was his home, a haven away from the politics and money grubbing that research grants too often required.

He gestures. "You can sit, or...." Or the cradling platform was there, a massive structure in the center of the room. It was Alex's choice to make, as Dennett moved for his tools. He wanted to remind Alex he had choice, agency, however small, if only, perhaps, to console himself.
yourmove: (008)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-26 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
It would be more efficient to use the cradling platform. The platform had spooked Alex when he first turned around and saw it, realized that a section of the damn thing injected itself into his head like a gas pump into a car. It brought up the mental image of a hole in the back of his skull, then wondering if that was there from the car bomb or that was all Dr. Norton's doing. Sitting was a little slice of humanity in comparison.

The offer of choice flew right over Alex's head in his current state. He broke away from Norton to march over to the cradling platform, still left standing vertically after he was released to attend the press conference this morning. There had been an issue, then. He remembered it was important, remembered it was terrifying, remembered fire burning away his face but couldn't recall what terror felt like anymore. It was only a concept now. It didn't apply. He could discard it like those conversations after the press conference.

Alex leaned back against the cradle and rested his head against it, his eyes forward. He could hear Norton moving about the room, gathering what was needed for dorsoventral repairs. For a man who was normally so precise, he seemed to making more noise than usual, filling up the silence.

"You are distressed, doctor."
biomechatronic: (it's out of my hands)

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
Alex had spent more time in that platform than anywhere in his life, Dennett would imagine, as they'd slowly reconstructed his body, testing and fitting the parts, running diagnostics, moving stage by stage with a tense breathlessness, wary for any rejection of the cybernetic relays.

He'd rejected dozens of candidates for this procedure, and he remembered how many nights he'd worried about this choice, but of all of them, the life that Alex would have faced without this was--in his mind--worse than the others.

He looked up, almost startled, at Alex's observation. "No," he said, a little too quickly. "No. I'm fine." Another surprise: not that Alex could read his biometrics that well, but that he said something about it. "It's just been a long day."

Dennett managed what he hoped was a creditable smile, parrying the conversation back. "Less taxing than yours, though."
yourmove: (013)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-26 07:57 am (UTC)(link)
Fine. "Fine" suggested maximum efficiency and productivity and he wasn't getting that from observing Norton. "It was one arrest with no significant resistance. It was not taxing."

Alex lapsed into silence, cutting his words off instead of trailing into it as he waited patiently for the doctor to come into view. The maintenance he asked Norton to perform should only take a hour at most.

He didn't have to look at the doctor to know what he would see. Dark lines under his eyes, visible before, during and after the press conference. The smile was familiar as well - he had seen that same frayed smile even before they were shipped back to the United States from a location he still wasn't classified to know. It was as much a physical marker as the part in Norton's hair or his dominant hand.

"I can resume arrests after maintenance," Alex announced. He didn't smile back. "You should get some rest."
biomechatronic: (let's talk like reasonable men)

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
It was a different standard: in his medical residency, Dennett had often had to operate, full craniotomies, aspirations, all the injuries and traumas a human brain could endure. He'd been beyond exhausted then, but it had trained his mind and his hands, a kind of muscle memory.

He pulled over a rolling stool, perching on it after laying the tools on a small tray. The last time he'd seen Alex come anywhere near a smile, he'd been dreaming, unaware of what his body had undergone while he'd been kept in sedation.

"Later, maybe." Because he knows there's no way he can rest with the idea someone out there could be shooting at one of his creations, that he could be needed. He's still not sure what to make of Alex's concern, if that's indeed what it is.

He sheds the thought, hands moving, tracing over the armor wrapping around Alex's sides. It was a neutral, but delicate touch, the hands of a surgeon who trusted tactile feedback far more than his own eyes. His shoulders seemed to release some tension, relaxing into what was almost a flow state. "Any discomfort?" He pushed, in spots, where the plating overlapped, testing the linkages.

yourmove: (009)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-26 10:49 am (UTC)(link)
Even if his dopamine levels hadn't been effectively flat-lined, Alex still would've found it hard to smile. There had been times he wondered if he could remember how after all this, if that was another thing he lost when he went downstairs that night.

He continued to stare ahead as Dr. Norton went to work, his fingers playing across the joints of segmented armor. He appeared more at ease with this sort of work than the obligation of the press conference and shaking executives' hands. Noted; filed away for reference under Norton, Dennett. It was after a few minutes of thorough probing that Alex finally spoke up. Discomfort was a word, something Norton and his technicians used to describe certain kinds of sensory feedback.

"Not yet." More gentle pushing, as if Alex was made of skin and bone instead of high impact graphene. "There. Try four centimeters down."

That was likely the problem plate in question. His head finally shifted so he was looking at Norton now with brown eyes that were left mostly intact. The reasoning was the majority population had brown eyes and brown would therefore register as “approachable/human/average” despite the matte-black armor and the small arsenal. There was nothing behind those eyes now, no spark, no worries or fear or even stage-fright, all thanks to the good doctor.
biomechatronic: (no he's all right)

I apologize for all these teal deer

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-26 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
It was unsettling, of course, the flatness of Alex's response. But it was better than psychosis, better than a hundred ways the mind could break down.

At least that's what Dennett tells himself, but this close to him, the way he lay, preternaturally still, as Dennett's hands moved to where Alex had indicated, it was a little harder to believe. Alex was his most ambitious project, and God forgive Dennett, he wasn't immune to ambition, wasn't immune to the desire to to see how far he could push his technological cures.

And Alex's body wasn't his design--he'd preferred the silver one, that had stayed on the merely 'imposing' rather than 'intimidating' side of the aesthetic line, but he had to admit there was a certain sleek aesthetic here, like the complicated, inorganic but elegant lines of the motorcyle Alex rode.

He felt the shift of Alex's movement, but for a long moment, his own eyes, nowhere near as perfect as Alex's, already faded to the point of needing glasses, studying the spot Alex indicated. It wasn't until he found the damage, a plate lifted just a bit from its flatness, one edge twisted. His fingers are still tracing the damaged plate, as he looks up, curious, meeting Alex's gaze. "Is something wrong?" It was a quick question, a slip, almost, a question he'd ask any of his patients.
Edited (UGH WORDS WHY DO YOU DEFY ME) 2014-02-26 14:59 (UTC)
yourmove: (007)

Never apologize because I love it >:3

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-27 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
Alex reviewed the question: he had carried out an arrest of an at-large murderer today and was receiving minor maintenance that was better to address now than later. As far as he could tell, nothing at all was wrong. “No.”

He paused several seconds too long for a good conversationalist to leave the other person hanging, then seemed to revise his initial assessment. Those audio recordings he had filed for deletion but hadn’t cleared yet. He was…not quite curious, but he would like additional clarification. These were the men and women he would be assisting in day-to-day operations, after all, and they would function more efficiently as a unit if they trusted him to carry out his duties. The audio/visual logs indicated a certain level of distrust and apprehension from the avoidance of prolonged eye contact to rapid swallowing and crossed arms. Those looks had been aimed not just at him, but also at the doctor.

Alex blinked at Norton as he rested against the cradle, the gesture slow and almost out of some old habit than because he needed to worry about dry eyes. It would’ve been reassuringly human if today hadn’t happened.

“The others didn’t appear satisfied with the arrest,” Alex broke the silence. “Why?”

He trusted Norton to know if it was a matter of reflexes, if his body could use further adjustment or he was accessing the criminal databases a fraction of a second behind what he should. Whatever was wrong, the doctor could and would fix it. It was the closest thing to faith Alex was capable of right now.
Edited 2014-02-27 00:39 (UTC)
biomechatronic: (Default)

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-27 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
He knew, as soon as he'd asked, that the syntax of the question would be difficult for Alex to process. So he's patient, nodding at the answer, waiting while Alex thought further, watching the way his eyes moved, little micromovements signalling he was accessing something stored in memory.

He hesitated, after the question, trying to choose his words more carefully. Because he knows what Alex is asking, and he knows the answer, but it's not the answer he wants to give. They were uncomfortable with Alex, who he was, what he was.

Dennett had a fierce loyalty to all of his patients, but Alex was special even among them. He'd noticed the shadowed looks after the press conference, aimed at Alex. And it hurt, watching their discomfort with what was really a miracle, a marvel, and a testament to Alex's inner strength, something all of Dennett's medical tricks couldn't emulate. He pushed his glasses up with the back of one hand.

"People need time to adjust. Remember, it's as new to them as all this is to you." It wasn't a satisfactory answer, even in his own ears, so he turned back to the repairs, trying to distract them both.
yourmove: (014)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-27 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
Adjusting his glasses was another one of Dr. Norton’s nervous tics he had observed time and time again: when he sat him down to talk to Clara, when he brought the news about the press conference, among many other instances.

“Chief Dean was informed I would be returning to duty some time ago. She had enough time to notify the others. ” Norton was right – it wasn’t a satisfactory answer to him, much less to a half-man, half-machine who preferred things to line up in a neatly quantifiable row. Alex continued to stare at Norton, his eyes trained on the top of his graying head. “The arrest followed procedure. Everything was by the book.”

In other words, Alex didn’t understand what there was to adjust to. It was clear-cut. Simple.

The silence stretched as he listened to Norton at work: the squeak of his stool’s cushion, the barely perceptible ting of metal against metal as the doctor swapped tools. He worked quickly despite the signs of exhaustion, showing once again why he was the head of the project instead of others like Jae Kim. It wasn’t long before an alert glowed green at the corner of Alex’s vision.

biomechatronic: (safe distance this time)

I am the slowest ;_;

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-27 11:31 am (UTC)(link)
The problem with creating Alex's programming was installing it on an already intelligent man who didn't have the habit of letting easy answers slide by. It was one Dennett would be proud of if it were aimed somewhere else. Aimed at him, through those light-brown eyes, it was uncomfortable.

Dennett was a fastidious man, but the time he took to wipe a silicon-lubricant over the plating, and then carefully brush away any trace of his fingerprints on the dull sheen the lubricant had spread over the matte armor, was more than that, and he suspected Alex could tell he was buying time.

But even that bought only so much time. It was dangerous to remind Alex of his memories: he remembered all too well what had happened to Duncan. The last thing he could handle was another suicide. It was why he'd insisted Alex's memories be kept intact. "Alex. You remember, it took you some time to...adjust." He'd had his own heart in his throat, when he'd had to show Alex all that was left of him, dancing clumsily with words when Alex had wanted to die. But if Alex could handle the footage of his own explosion, now, Dennett hoped he could handle that.
yourmove: (022)

it's worth the wait :P

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-27 12:34 pm (UTC)(link)
He could tell. It was a waste of time to stall, in his opinion, because like he told the doctor five hours earlier: he felt completely fine. Putting things diplomatically applied to other officers, not him. Not the new Alex Murphy.

“I remember.”

No slight, barely-there tremble in Alex’s voice. DCPD might’ve had a reputation for being a bunch of hardcore badasses but getting blown up and then waking up with most of your organs gone (what’s left stuffed inside a chassis), and anyone in their right mind would freak out. He used to look back on that and try to get through it day by day, trusting Norton because he had one of those faces you just thought you could – should - trust. After all, what other options were there?

Now those memories were only facts, dates. Irrelevant to doing his job as a detective. His eyes bored into Norton, assessing his tone of voice, how long he paused on certain words because pauses were proven to be tells, too, like blink-rate and perspiration levels. It was all there in the psychology programming. You didn’t need gut instincts anymore with people like Norton around to engineer it into you. It did occur to him maybe he needed an update, if he was reading the situation so differently from the doctor here.

“There is a meeting tomorrow morning. They will have more time to adjust then,” Alex said. He didn’t seem to find it in him to argue the point, instead glancing down at Norton’s work as he spoke. “Thank you.”
biomechatronic: (Default)

He's a new muse and I'm trying to do him justice

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-27 01:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Dennett didn't have Alex's skill, human or cybernetic, with reading people, but he could hear the disaffected tone. It was clinically encouraging, on the one hand: Alex's memories were intact, his emotional responses steady.

But on a human level, it was...more complicated. He didn't want Alex upset, but what he'd done--what he'd had to do, he told himself, for Alex's sake, to make him functional, to keep the program funded, Alex alive--kept gnawing at the back of his mind.

Crying man or numb man. It was a terrible choice.

"It's not...I wish it were that simple." Another slip: his hands were fine, his brain ready to operate, but when it came to interaction, he feared the weariness of the whole day was showing. He did wish it were that simple, for Alex's sake. "Does it bother you?"

He realized the question was too probing, so he turns his attention back to Alex's frame, scanning it for any other misalignments.
yourmove: (016)

You're doing a fantastic job

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-27 01:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, so maybe they needed more time than tomorrow, he thought, except Norton was unable to give a precise time-table for exactly when. The hedging should've bothered Alex; he'd started to recognize when he was getting the run around in Who the Hell Knows, China, when he kept asking when he'd get to go home and they never gave him a definite answer. It was a lot of "sometime", "soon", "maybe next week" or "just a few more tests". It'd pissed him off. He snapped a few times at Norton, blew off some steam that didn't help either of them, then stewed a bit.

Stewing now would be counterproductive.

"Maybe it should, but it doesn't." The verbal equivalent of a shrug. "I can speak personally with Chief Dean and Officer Lewis. It would help if you gave them your professional opinion as well. Assure them and the others I want what they want."

He stopped short of saying a safer, cleaner Detroit you won't be afraid to raise a family in like some OmniCorp brochure, but he came dangerously close.
biomechatronic: (safe distance this time)

I have to try to match your awesome tags :D

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-27 02:05 pm (UTC)(link)
In China, Dennett had explained, time and again, that you couldn't put a timetable on healing. There were always ranges, even for things as simple as infection and broken bones, and Alex's case had so many complicating factors....

But he'd understood Alex's impatience: his wife, his son. The need to do something rather than sit in a lab, undergoing endless simulations and functions checks. It was a balance Dennett needed, to make sure Alex was ready, was well enough.

And even then, he'd miscalculated, and Alex's bland affect, his numbed emotions, were the result.

Sometimes, telling yourself you did the best you could under the circumstances wasn't good enough.

His hands found a rough patch on Alex's thigh: nothing that impeded movement, just a burr of metal from scraping against something. But it was something to do, something to tell himself he was doing to help fix Alex, so he reached for a small sander, the soft whirr, he hoped, covering any waver in his tone. "And what do you think they want, Alex? From you?"
Edited (goddammit, typing. ) 2014-02-27 14:06 (UTC)
yourmove: (024)

Funny, because I'm doing the same to you >:D

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-27 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
The sander was small, the handheld kind. It almost could have been the kind hobbyists used, except hobbyists didn't have access to graphene armor and billions in funding, as well as CEOS hovering over their shoulders breathing about deadlines and which color looked better. Minor cosmetic damage such as scuffs didn’t have an impact on his performance but as he understood it, appearances mattered for now. Sellars had muttered something about PR through his smile when he shook Norton’s hands for the photo op a few hours ago.

Alex listened to the sander, his mouth pressed into a line. "To continue my duties as a detective: investigate, detain, arrest if necessary. ‘Alive’ is preferred but not required. The same thing I was doing before, except do it better and faster and more efficiently."

Tossing in and hopefully not get blown up this time should've been on the tip of his tongue, something a little sarcastic to remind Norton – and himself – that maybe he was 90% machine now, but the other 10% was still Alex Murphy.

The fingers of his flesh hand flexed as he brought it up to rest on his torso, where his stomach used to be, as his systems alerted him he was in the green and all clear. It was the closest thing to satisfaction his programming could feel, if that was possible.

He was still staring forward as the phone went off in Norton's right pocket.
Edited 2014-02-27 21:57 (UTC)
biomechatronic: (safe distance this time)


[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-27 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
You didn't successfully tamper with a human brain without having a touch of an obsession for fastidiousness, and sanding down the scuff settled part of his mind, putting everything back in order.

Dennett shook his head. That's not all they want, and there was something ineffably sad that that's all Alex can see. He would have lunged at any sign of sarcasm, humor, humanity or light in Alex's voice, any sign he was in there somewhere, even a flash of the temper he'd seen in China.

He sat back, idly thumbing the now-stilled sanding disk, calculating his words. It was a risk, but then, everything in Alex's life had been one. "Do you think maybe they want to know if you're happ--damn."

He fumbled in his pocket, through the slit in his lab coat for his phone, mouth creasing as he read the number, rising to move to the door, signalling with one hand that he'll only be a moment. The door to the lab closed over the words, "We'd agreed, Raymond. No interviews."
Edited (wow verb tenses o_O ) 2014-02-27 23:16 (UTC)
yourmove: (008)

Brofist indeed - also I'll switch back to Alex when Norton's back in the room

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-28 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
Alex had an idea what Norton was asking and he was on the verge of asking him to clarify how his happiness would impact on DCPD operations when the phone rang. His answer would have to wait. He turned to stare forward as Norton stepped outside to take the call.

* * *

Raymond Sellar’s voice came in clear over the other end of the line. “That was this morning. You won’t even believe the numbers of calls we’ve had looking for the first exclusive. The press ate it up. You can’t buy this kind of coverage!

There was a pause. Knowing Raymond, he was probably pacing the length of a huge office that money could buy in his favorite tennis shoes and his turtleneck, the kind that was painted him as just a normal, everyday guy you could be neighbors with instead of the CEO of OmniCorp. He was used to getting what he wanted and he knew how to get it: you talked. You talked until the audience bought it and a lot of the time you had to do it twice as hard for the geniuses, like Dennett Norton. Especially the geniuses. They required more hand-holding and back-patting than the others.

Think about it, Dennett,” Raymond said, his voice dropping to that friendly tone between conspirators. “Just one interview tonight and we can space the others out over the week, take it slow. If we’re lucky, he won’t tase the producers on camera.

Raymond chuckled on the other end.
biomechatronic: (it's out of my hands)

works for me!

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-28 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Dennett would love to answer that philosophical question, very much more than he wanted to deal with Raymond Sellars. Sometimes he asked himself if he'd sold his soul to the devil, but then he'd think about all the patients he'd had in the Foundation, all the people who could walk and write and live almost-normal lives that would have been impossible a decade before. If he'd sold his soul, he'd at least sold it at a high price.

It didn't make dealing with Raymond any more pleasant.

"I imagine not," he said, acidly. "Or you would have bought it already." He knew enough of how Sellars operated by now.

"I am thinking about it," Dennett retorted. "Hasn't he been through enough today, being stared at like some sort of exhibit?" This felt like a losing battle already, especially after Raymond's crack, which he let hang in silence, turning his back to the lab so hopefully Alex wouldn't see the scowl.
Edited (I'm going to get some caffeine so this verb tense thing stops happening orz) 2014-02-28 02:22 (UTC)
yourmove: (031)

I am so bsing this >:3

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-02-28 02:37 am (UTC)(link)
Raymond shrugged, switching the phone from one hand to the other as he reached over to grab his coat. “You asked me, it didn’t look like he minded. Besides, you keep him cooped up in that lab of yours too much. Give the kid some freedom. Guy needs to stretch every now and then, you know?

Put like that, it sounded so reasonable. Alex Murphy was a celebrity in the making and what was better, he was camera-friendly: his face was handsome, wasn’t burned off thanks to Dennett and his team’s hard work, and besides: he might even make the pundits squirm a little bit with his honesty. All in all, Raymond knew good TV fodder when he saw it. He wanted Alex even more visible ASAP before he was old news tomorrow and he’d prefer not to lean on Dennett again about the funding issues. Blackmail and outright threats tended not to work well in the long run. Bad for working relationships.

He preferred to keep things if not friendly, at least professional between them.

How ‘bout I drop by, visit the two of you, field questions about the interview process. It’s easy, real easy. Trust me.” Raymond refused to take no for an answer. Having their product under lockdown right after a high-profile arrest wasn’t working for him. “I’ll see you in twenty.”
Edited (verb fail and html fail. :P We all do it) 2014-02-28 02:37 (UTC)
biomechatronic: (a billion dollars)

hush it is great

[personal profile] biomechatronic 2014-02-28 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Raymond. Listen. He's already picking up that things aren't...normal here." It was one thing to push Alex, however gently, in the lab, where Dennett could handle him. Quite another to involve a film crew.

Dennett knew this was a bad idea, knew this in his bones. But Raymond was always at least five steps ahead of him, and that accusation, the hint that he was the problem, he was keeping Alex from freedom, galled.

He was no good at this kind of verbal fencing, so he throws up the first excuse that comes to mind. "He wants to go back to patrolling, Raymond." It was the only actual closest thing to a wish Alex had articulated. And he knew it was a weak argument, contradicting his own words, earlier, but the almost constant supervision he'd had since he'd agreed to this project had been eroding his nerves.

Re: hush it is great

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it's fine!

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it exploded sorry :P

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you totally got this

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let's find out

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I smiled at that first sentence

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Dennett can never get a break.

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sounds perfect!

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Re: sounds perfect!

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