taxonomites | [OPEN] [Casa Westen] Six of One, Half Dozen of the Other

Michael sat on his kitchen counter, tablet in his lap expanded to its biggest laptop form. He was pretty sure he'd worked out most of the kinks in the gadget -- well, more or less -- except for the crucial matters of breaking it, sabotaging it or trying to get it to stay off for long periods of time. How was it even powered? Taxon (he was resigning himself to accepting it was called that) defied the laws of physics as he knew it, like it had its own laws of sci-fi physics. It probably did. That unnerved him beyond belief -- he was used to being from a world where vinegar and baking soda made foam and gasoline and Coca-Cola bottle made Molotov cocktail. Having to re-learn the basic rules of reality was like getting the muscles in his legs rearranged while he slept so he woke up not actually knowing how to walk.

But: first things first. You broke a task up into tiny steps, and you took the steps. Eventually you got to the end of the task. Or it kept adding steps faster than you could keep up, but Michael Westen was Michael Westen and in his own opinion he could keep up pretty goddamned fast.

He crossed his legs next to the new range Jesse had installed and, after a moment of consideration, tapped a few icons and dialed Paul Smecker, call set to Visual.

[OOC: Call is locked to Paul, but post is open to anyone who wants to call or visit Michael ~~for some reason~~]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Michael picked out the friendly female voice and placed it as Southern, maybe Cajun, definitely unfamiliar. "I still haven't figured that one out," he said with sympathy he didn't have to feign. "You new here too? I'm Michael."

Sometimes I think I got it fine, then it just turns right on the minute I turn my back. I don't know if it's broken or if they just like us flashin' things all over without knowin' it.

[ sookie nods, then sighs when she realizes the connection is just voice. acclimating is taking time. ]

Just under two weeks. And I keep hearin' I was here before that, but I could swear I've never seen this place in my life. It's not somethin' you just up and forget, and I-- [ she breaks off, coughs quietly. ] Lord, I'm sorry. I get goin' when I'm nervous, and it gets hard to stop. I'm Sookie.

The woman sounded upset, which kicked in his first-response reflexes to an upset person: "It's okay," he said a little awkwardly (it was always Sam who could comfort people; Michael wasn't the people person); "I'm pretty nervous myself, actually, I don't blame you for feeling nervous. It's not hard to be. If it helps you any," he paused, "I used to work for the government, Special Operations, and I still can't say I'm not freaked out a little over this. I don't think anyone actually knows where we are."

Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if telling an anxious person that a CIA operative was also anxious actually was going to be comforting, but: Sam, people person, Michael, thinking person, goddamn it. "If it makes you feel any better," he offered, "we're trying to get together some kind of ground-level law enforcement here and I'm not the only one looking for answers as to where we are and how to get out of here. If you need anything, feel free and let me know; I live in Speares. Where are you from? I was in Miami before I got here."

At least I'm not the only one left feelin' like I'm tryin' to fit together a puzzle without knowin' what the picture looks like.

[ sookie sighs again, then stiffens her shoulders and forces friendliness back into her tone. gran didn't raise her to whine about life instead of living it. ]

Bon Temps, born and raised. [ the pride in her voice is obvious, and the backwoods of lousiana accent she's normally rocking slips into proper french pronunciation for a moment. ] It's a little town in Louisiana? Just an hour or so outta Shreveport.

[OPEN] [Casa Westen] Six of One, Half Dozen of the Other

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