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Stark Industries, Tuesday, 8/28

When Victor got to work today, he was a little psyched that the first repair job in the store's queue was an Atari 2600 that looked like somebody had dropped it in a swimming pool. The thing was about twice as old as he was, but that just made the challenge of getting it to work that much more interesting.

It took all morning to get the circuits dried out and reconnected. When everything finally lit up like it was supposed to, he looked around for a game to test the system on.

The only one he could find was AI the Alien Invader.

After an hour of falling into holes, dying, restarting, and then falling into another hole and dying again, he understood why people thought it was the worst game ever.

[OOC: Open repair shop.]

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Olive's laptop had broken this morning. It wasn't exactly a mystery as to how -- her natural grace (or lack thereof) combined with a large caramel mocha from the Perk had not made for a happy combination for her poor keyboard. She'd immediately found out where to take it in town, and trudged over to Stark Industries (...okay, Tony, she was still jealous, because she didn't know anyone else with industries) with the poor machine clutched to her chest.

"...hey," she said, perking up a little when she saw who was there. "I didn't know you worked here."

Victor glanced away from the screen (he thought he'd finally figured out how to get out of the holes, but it still took way too damn long to be fun) and brightened equally when he saw who had come in.

"Yeah, I started a while back," he said, and rubbed his joystick hand with the other hand to get out the soreness. "Hi."

He nodded his chin to the laptop. "What's up with your baby?"

"My baby," Olive said, very sadly as she set the laptop down before him, "does not like coffee as much as I do, it seems." She rolled her eyes, and added, "It's my own stupid fault for being clumsy and careless, but, you know, I was kind of hoping someone could work a miracle."

"Lucky you, this is the one kind of miracle I can usually do," Victor said. He wasn't being cocky; he was just stating a fact.

He opened the laptop, ran an inquiring finger over the keyboard and winced when it came away sticky. "Feels like you tried to feed the baby caramel, too."

"I have good taste in my dessert coffees. But I tried to clean it up?" she offered. "With like, wet wipes, but being liquid, you know, it really got in there." She tilted her head, watching. "You really think it's fixable? I was all prepared to feel really dumb for weeks on end while painstakingly saving up for a new one."

Victor -- done caressing the keyboard -- hit the power button with real tenderness, watched to see what would happen. He could sense the laptop had some functionality left, but he wasn't quite sure how bad the damage was.

"I think so," he nodded. "Feels to me like it's still alive in there. Keyboard's pretty fried, but we can rebuild that if the memory and CPU are working. And I really think they are."

He glanced over. "And hey, death via fancy dessert coffee is not the worst way a keyboard could go."

"I didn't understand like half of that," Olive admitted, but she was smiling. This was kind of interesting to watch -- or she was just a dork, either way. "But I'll trust that you know what you're doing. I'm not a hardware person like, at all. I built a website earlier this year and that's about the extent of my computer know-how. I'm totally that person who calls everything 'thingies,' sorry."

"Sometimes thingies is the only word that works," Victor said. He kept working as he talked; he was using some cables to connect Olive's computer to another terminal so he could see what was going on with her data. "Anyhow, web design's not easy. I haven't done it unless you count, y'know, jazzing up my MySpace in seventh grade."

"I bought a domain name and hooked up a webcam," Olive admitted. "Also not complicated. I think it's still up and running, but it's not like I maintain it." In actuality, www.freeolive.com actually still worked fine, and there were more than a few people back in Ojai who had rewatched her whole confessional from start to finish a time or two. "And it's good to know social networking is universal across...you know, universes. I haven't thought about MySpace since middle school."

"Mine had this whole superhero theme going on," Victor told her, rolling his eyes a little. "Plus I had it play Snoop Dogg when you loaded it. I was hardcore."

"But yeah, weird how that lines up between worlds. Like, is there a place where it's still cool?"

"God, I hope not," Olive said, making a face. "I deleted my Facebook right before I left Ojai, but it's on the rise at home still. All hail the mighty Zuckerberg, et cetera, et cetera. Though I have to say, the personalization aspect of MySpace was kind of neat. Even if Snoop and graphics would have made everything run a little slower, it was better than everyone's everything looking the same."

"Even if kids made everybody's eyes bleed on there, at least they all made eyes bleed in their own way," Victor nodded. "Yeah, I never thought about it like that but I see what you mean."

He went over to the computers and tapped a few keys, humming with satisfaction at what he was seeing. "Can you leave this overnight? I can fix it, it's just not an instant kind of miracle."

"I can leave it as long as you need," Olive assured him. "All I was doing when Coffeeocalypse occurred was emailing my parents and a couple friends so they'd know I got here and stuff, but I can just as easily call them." The 'couple friends' thing was kind of an exaggeration, since she didn't talk to much of anyone at home anymore, but that was so pathetic to say out loud. "I think I can live without constant internet updates for a couple days. Probably. It'll be quaint."

"They made us camp for a while over the summer?" Victor told her. "Like, out in the woods in actual tents, wireless never worked in my tent. You get used to it. It was all... pioneery."

He also hadn't had decent access back under La Brea, but that was a long story.

Edited 2012-08-28 19:59 (UTC)

"Ugh, I hate camping," Olive sighed, shaking her head. "My friend Rhiannon's parents are like, the hippiest people ever? And they used to make us camp with them in their backyard and listen to Aboriginal flutes, eat vegan loaf and do bong rips. I mean, they would. I mostly smiled and said polite things and just said no." She paused, and added, "I think my camping experience is maybe not like normal camping experiences."

"Yeah, there's like no pot here," Victor said. "Not that it's a huge thing for me either. But there were probably some flutes. And ridiculous amounts of food on sticks. I think people were really bored and just wanted to light things on fire, there were s'mores like every night."

"I have no idea what normal camping is like, if not that."

"Well, they took away the rest of your fun," Olive pointed out. "Pyromania seems to be basically all that was left. But hey, if the movies are anything to go by, teenage camping usually results in a guy in a hockey mask killing everyone, so congrats on making it out."

"See, but I think they quit killing the Mexican guy in those movies," Victor said. "I might have made it all the way to the sequel."

"Lucky," Olive sighed. "Redheads get taken down almost as fast as dumb blondes, so I'm a goner. Avenge me, will you?"

"I'm your guy for avenging," Victor told her, and then gave the back of his neck an awkward little rub. "And hey, you seem like you're doing okay here so far. You might surprise yourself, be the one who takes the killer out with a stiletto or something."

"That does seem possible," Olive said thoughtfully, smiling at him. "Not much of a stilettos girl these days but I could re-learn the art of walking in heels if it means I get to live through a totally hypothetical summer camp of horror. Worthy cause, all that."

The using-a-shoe-as-a-weapon would obviously come naturally.

Edited 2012-08-29 01:29 (UTC)

"You could take pointers from my friend Nico," Victor offered. "She has the Goth thing going on. I'm pretty sure most of her shoes are registered as weapons."

"Does she ever trip in them?" Olive asked, genuinely kind of interested. "I spent half a semester in spiked heels and I almost broke my ankle like four times." A pause, and, "Again, it is shocking that I managed to dump coffee all over my expensive electronic toy. Shocking."

"I've never seen her do it. She can even fight in them." Yes, Victor was still a little awed by this particular Nico Minoru skill set. "... why were you in spiked heels if you can't walk in them?"

She didn't exactly seem the type.

"Performance art," Olive answered, but not especially convincingly. She'd been sticking with that particular explanation, though. She wasn't exactly ashamed of what she'd done back in Ojai -- it was just one of those things you didn't necessarily tell the cute guy fixing your computer. At least, she didn't. "Kind of a lead-up to my pep rally thing. Hey, Tony said that sometimes we all wake up the wrong gender, so if that happens, you're welcome to borrow my heels and take the non-injury walk challenge yourself."

"I'd break my neck," Victor said firmly. "And yeah, that's one of the things I don't think can happen to me. But I said the same thing about the pony thing and I was wrong there."

Which still made his head hurt. Cybernetics should not be subject to transformational magic -- he was pretty sure if he'd come with a manual, that would be in there.

Edited 2012-08-29 02:14 (UTC)

"Pony thing?" Olive asked, leaning a hip against the counter. "There was a pony thing? I heard we have a teacher who's a pink pony but this sounds more personal and thus, fills me with a resigned sort of dread."

Victor stepped toward her, resting both palms on the counter, and said -- in a low voice full of resignation -- "I was orange. With sparks coming from my mouth."

He sounded as if this were the tragedy of all time.

Olive snorted, in a highly attractive sort of way. Really. Because honestly, the other option was to start flailing about ponies and she had to stop that. "You sound adorable. If slightly dangerous. I wouldn't mess around with a spark-shooting pony."

She would. Lies.

"Next time I'm a pony" -- and Victor dearly hoped there wouldn't be a next time -- "I'll come find you and you can see if you still think I'm adorable."

He was wondering what Olive would look like as a pony. Probably pretty cute, he decided.

You know. For a horse.

"And with any luck, I won't also be a pony." Oh, Olive. "So I can judge your adorableness objectively. Also, I've never postulated about whether I might wake up as a pony before." Olive cocked her head. "I feel like the fact that I actually said that and didn't burst into hysterical tears or laughter is maybe not the best sign for my continued sanity."

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Stark Industries, Tuesday, 8/28

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