caveofsapphires | (no subject)

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WHO: Re-l Mayer (Masako Hart), open
WHAT: Sorting herself out
WHERE: Supply Depot
WHEN: April 21st
WARNINGS: None for now

Re-l - no, Masa, she must learn to think of herself by her new name - stretches her arms out stiffly. She's tired from carrying boxes, and certain now that her reflexes aren't quite as good at they used to be. It irritates her, but she pushes the concern aside. She has more on her mind than just her body.

She looks at the crates piled around her, reading the labels slowly. Oranges, apples, broccoli, some soy derivative that stands in for meat: the contents match their descriptions exactly, a fact Re-l finds oddly frustrating. She wants something not to fit more than she is willing to admit. She frowns, and unpleasant lines settle between her eyes.

This fretting is useless. Silence and patience were skills she honed in Romdeau, and she is determined to use them to their full advantage here. She will buy their lies, she will be Masa Hart, she will swear it was all a dream, and she will find the truth.

The shopfront for the Supply Depot is small and cramped, with low windows that let in a dull and grainy light. It offers no views to the outside world, but Re-l can feel the presence of the warehouses behind her like a cold shadow. They are forbidden, and that excites her curiosity. She considers trying to sneak off now, but she is supposed to be working, and who knows what kind of surveillance there is in this place.

Besides, she may glean something from the customers, if any ever arrive. Re-l tucks herself in behind the desk and folds her arms on the cold wood, letting her thoughts drift away from her. She wishes she had a diary, or a voice recorder of some kind, but her hands are empty. She is reduced to watching the dust motes dance, and to hoping for a distration, no matter how irritating.

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The Doctor makes his way to the supply depot, intent on asking about devices. There wasn't a whole lot going on, exactly, but with all those books, it did keep him quite busy, reading up on the history of the planet, trying to fit all the pieces together... and yet the big absence of what had actually happened to cause all this still ate at him. It was like leaving out the most important detail of an experiment gone wrong - how could you ensure you didn't repeat it without making note of what it was?

When he arrives, he takes in the place. It isn't his first visit, yet any time he walks into a building, he finds himself examining it, making note of what's been moved, what was different, almost as if looking for something to be wrong. Seeing nothing that stands out, the Doctor shakes his head and walks up to the desk. "Pardon me, my dear," he says, smiling pleasantly to the young woman.

Re-l hears the doorbell, but she's gone so far into her memories - real and imagined - that it takes her a long moment to process the sound. World, dream, supply depot, ringing, doorbell. She looks up and finds that an older man, very neatly dressed, has already edged his way around the crates and boxes, and is standing over her desk. She blinks up at him, her eyeshadow flashing twice, brighter than anything else in the room.

"Yes," she says, and then she thinks that she should have been polite and then she decides it doesn't really matter.

His head tilts slightly, one brow quirking. Interesting eyeshadow... A bit distracting, too. Ah, but there's no need to go and be rude, he chides himself. "Hello, my dear," he greets, still smiling. "I do apologize for the interuption. Whatever was keeping you so distracted must be fairly interesting, hmm?" He expects she's just thinking of her 'dream' past, as many must be, but that curiosity of his has to stick its nose into everything.

"Not really," Re-l says, shrugging. She dislikes looking up at people, but she can't find a reason to stand up, so she shifts slightly back and forth, keeping her eyes steadily on her customer.

"Can I help you with anything?" Her voice is dry and cold.

As she speaks she watches him carefully. He's polite to a confusing degree - she normally sees politeness as a flaw, signalling either conformity or wheedling, but this man registers as neither. Everything is strange here, and it makes her tense.

"Well, I was looking for a Mister Stieber," the Doctor explains, taking a look about the depot before returning his gaze to the woman. "But as he doesn't seem to be present, I suppose I'll just have to speak with you, now, won't I?" Not that he minds. Her coldness doesn't do much to put him off, the persistant old man ever eager to learn more about what sort of people wind up in this place.

"I don't suppose you know anything about, ah, scientific devices? Particuarily for the study of dirt samples." The question comes with some hint of curiosity, the Doctor's interest beyond simply finding what he's looking for.

"It's his day off," Re-l says, by way of explanation. She's already standing up, heading to the stack of crates where they keep equipment and machinery. She talks over her shoulder as she walks.

"I haven't yet established where everything is, and I there's a lot of equipment in the back I haven't touched yet, but I think I can help you." She reads the labels to herself and at last straightens up. "We have a basic kit for gardeners: moisture meters, PH meters, mini compactors and thermometers. I think if you want anything more complex you'll have to come back and talk to Stieber."

She looks back over her shoulder.

"I'm not a scientist, and I never was, not in any reality. But it seems unlikely that you just want to garden."

She drums her finger on the wood of a box. It's a risk, but a calculated one. And this man seems far too nice to get her into trouble.

The Doctor chuckles. "Not gardening, no." The idea of him starting a garden... Well, perhaps, but certainly not in the cave. He can always look more into that later. "I shall have to return to speak with him another time."

Though, if she's still sorting out where everything is, that brings up another question. "Did you awake more recently, then? I've been here... well, awake, for a few weeks now. Spend most of it in the library, however." He pauses, mind switching gears on him. "I suppose while I'm here I might as well pick up some rations. Whatever basics are on hand, no need for anything special."

Re-l nods to herself and moves away from the corner. She grabs a plastic bag and begins filling it mechanically: fruit in season, vegetables in season, bread, a small wheel of hard cheese, some yoghurt in a plastic container and because they have a lot right now, a jar of purple olives, gleaming in oil. She drops the filled bag on the counter and looks at her customer.

"Yes," she says. "I woke up a few days ago. I haven't been to the library yet, books aren't really my style. But if you've learned anything useful, I'd like to know."

She shakes her head and her shoulders drop.

"And at least for the moment, you can call me Masa."

"Ah, well, the history of the planet is pretty basic. Rise and fall of nations, building of the Diamond City. A surprising lack of any details on the Disaster, however." He shrugs, leaving the bag where it is for the moment. "I'm still trying to sort everything out. Hopefully the city will reveal more." If not, it'll wind up being an even bigger puzzle.

His head dips in a nod of greeting. "Call me Doctor. Doctor Olsen, if you must." He extends a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Masa."

"The city." Re-l bites her lip and looks away. "Maybe it will."

She drums her fingers on the table, and then a thought occurs to her. She takes out a pen and a very old, very battered leather journal from a pocket and tears out a page.

"That's my address. If you find anything, let me know. And I'll do the same. I assume I can find you in the library?"

She straightens up and looks him in the eye.

"It was nice to meet you too, Doctor."

It's an odd name, but perhaps no odder than hers. And certainly worth an ally.

"Oh yes. I spend an awful lot of time in the library." The Doctor chuckles, taking the note and tucking it into his pocket. So much reading, and it's all so fascinating. At least to him. "I'll be sure to keep you in mind if I do manage to dig anything up." As unlikely as that was.

"Tell me, my dear. Have you come across anyone you recognize? From your dream, I mean." It's a long shot, but worth asking. "I know you haven't been awake long, but everyone has to come to the depot sooner or later, hmm?"

Re-l shakes her head.

"No one at all," she says. "But I've met almost no one. The boss kept me in the back for my first few days."

She shrugs, not adding that this is also because she has trouble talking to people.

The Doctor nods ponderously. "If you should happen to, would you let me know? I'd be most interested." He offers a smile along with the request.

Taking up the bag of goods, the Doctor gives her a slight bow. She isn't saying much, and it's unlikly he'll get much more out of her. Especially since she hasn't been awake very long. "I should get back to my studies, hmm? If you need anything, don't hesitate to give me a call. The phone systems should have my number."

"I'm sure I'll see you soon," Re-l says, and she watches him weave his way back through the shop. It's not much, but it's a start, and a connection she may find useful in times to come.

She sits down, opens her diary and begins to write, focusing on the movement of the pen and the colour of the ink, and slowly her notes take form.

Baking required certain necessities. Necessities like actual goods and ingredients. And Gabriel was still in the process of pushing his luck. Sure, now he knew why it was a bad idea to go around talking too much about the Dreams, so he'd quit that habit ... mostly.

However, he was still in the process of seeing how far he could take the suppliers before they actually called him on not needing or not using what he ordered for the bakery. Well, 'not using' was a loose term--it was just that a good deal of what he ordered didn't always end up in or on baked goods. Either way, he was sort of getting to be a known face around the depot.

Which was why he threw open the doors and entered with a flourish. "Guess who's here!"

The opening door let in a shaft of bright light, and Re-l winced, covering her eyes with one hand. When the glare finally disappated she was left with a customer: a dark-haired man with a cunning smile. She folded her arms on the table and looked at him.

"Can I help you?" She glanced at the piled crates and wondered what on earth he was here for.

"Oh, a new face!" Gabriel clapped his hands and sauntered up to the desk to lean on it, grinning. "I can count the ways, if you want, but we might be here forever." Despite the flirtatious words his tone was cheerful and relaxed, not in the least bit serious on backing his statement up. For now, anyway. It had been a while, okay?

He fished his Sleeper ID out of a pocket and flourished it, the face turned toward the receptionist. "Sylvester Wilton, here to pick up a package for the bakery."

Re-l looked at him very coldly, and her mouth pulled down around the corners. Flirting made her uncomfortable, and discomfort mader her angry. She covered up her dislike by walking over to the racks of parcels and glancing among them, her heels clicking on the concrete floor with every step.

"Is this it? Steiber said someone might be in to collect it today." She held up a brown package, tied with string and tape. She didn't wait for a reply, but brought it back to the table.

"Is that everything?"

"That's it?" Gabriel asked, half bemused and half amused, sliding the package closer but not looking at the tag. It was about the right size for the extra sugar he'd ordered. "You're all business, aren't you? What, all this space and no one looking, and it didn't occur to throw a par-tay?"

He spread his arms to indicate the large room around them, giving a little wiggle.

Re-l's shoulder twitched, just slightly. She was very good at controlling herself, and that was the only indication of her instinctual response to boisterousness, ie kicking the person concerned. Her eyes remained calm and steady, her mouth compressed.

"I've been doing things my own way," she said. And then, because she had a streak of antagonism in her, she added, "why? Do you have a better plan?"

"There's a better plan than party?" Gabriel asked with mock horror, and went back to leaning on the desk, giving her a brisk beckoning motion. "Come on, then, lay it on me. How d'you get your fun around this morgue, if you're doing it your own way? Color me intrigued."

He was aware of her irritation, of course. Even though he'd once relied on souls to tell that for him, he still wasn't a slouch at reading the body language. The twitch and the thin line of her mouth kinda said it all.

Re-l grimaced and stood up as straight as she could, using his forward motion to emphasise her own height.

"Hmph. I have no time for inane conversation when there are a thousand mysteries waiting to be solved in this place." She folded her arms across her chest. "You can amuse yourself however you want, but I have more pertinent questions."

It had been a long time since Gabriel had reconciled himself with the fact that his meatsuit wasn't exactly tall. Not really short, but definitely not tall. So he only looked up at her from his position, eyebrows lifting, completely unconcerned with the difference. Hey, when you were an archangel you could look down on anybody, no matter how much taller than you they were.

"Ohh. That kind of party." He steepled his hands and gave her a slow, knowing smile. "You must be new. Ask me some of those questions, why don'tcha? I'll bet some of them match mine."

Re-l eyes sharpened. She hadn't been expecting anything from this irritating man, but information was always useful.

She fished out her diary and nosed to the back, turning through the pages until she found her list.

"This is in more or less order of importance, but some of the most crucial occured to me later," she said, by way of explanation. Holding the diary close to her face, she began to read. "One: what was the disaster? Two: if it was so cataclysmic, how did the world recover in such short order? Three: assuming for a moment that the story they fed us is true, where did the dreams come from and what was their purpose? Four: why have I not met anyone from my dreams? Statistical evidence suggests that I should have constructed personalities based on people I knew. Five: Why is so much of the cave off limits? What needs to be hidden from us? Six: Why are we not allowed to talk about the dreams? Seven: Why do we have no memories of our former lives?"

She snapped her diary closed and tucked it away quickly.

"Those are the questions I consider of paramount importance. I'm sure you can see why. Do you have anything to add?"

She'd actually written them down? She'd better hope no one got hold of that, especially for such elementary questions to be asking. Then again, she didn't seem the type to let people close enough to steal anything, which was something in her favor.

"One or two," he said with a shrug, tapping the countertop and scanning the walls near the ceiling. There was no chance this place wasn't under surveillance, really. He snapped his fingers at her. "Hand me something and I'll add them to the list for you."

They might guess what he was going to write, but they weren't going to know, and if this chick was as closed as she seemed to be he could probably trust she wouldn't let his notes out of her sight.

Re-l bit her lip, and her hands curled tightly around her diary, but after a moment's hesitation she pushed it across the desk.

"If you turn the page I will hurt you," she said, her voice low and steady.

Her hands tapped out an impatient rythym on her arm, and she tried to disguise by looking away, her eyeshadow bright in the half darkness.

"Is that a promise?" Gabriel asked, grinning as he flipped the diary open to exactly the page to which she'd had it open and reached for the pen on the desk. His handwriting was surprisingly archaic and ... well, beautiful. You could only assume he'd taken calligraphy lessons and done exceedingly well at them.

Assuming the story they fed us is false: who's behind it all, the Caretaker or someone higher up the food-chain? What's their ultimate motive? How did they manage to achieve what they did with so many various types of ~~beings~~ people from so many different universes? Why would they bother with such an elaborate plot, seeing as they had forewarning? What happened to their own people if they needed us?

While we're at it, where the Hell is this world?

He clicked the pen off and slid it over to her again, innocence in his expression.

Re-l grabbed her diary with slightly more energy than was strictly necessary. She read the new questions quickly and nodded, flipping the diary shut and tucking it away in her waistband, out of sight. Unless you knew it was there, it was almost impossible to see.

"Makes sense. Have you got everything you need?" she said, hoping that he would infer we probably shouldn't be seen talking too long from her words. She couldn't say why, but his caution made her paranoid.

"Well, now, that's a loaded question," Gabriel said with a smirk, fingers ratta-tatting on the counter. "And depends entirely on what else you were offering."

So it wasn't wise to get caught chatting about their dreams and the Cave as a conspiracy. No one could possibly blame him for flirting with a pretty woman.

Just for a moment he reminded her of someone, and she wasn't sure who. Vincent? Ergo? She blinked at him a little, her confusion tucked away in her own head. Flirting she knew by concept and because others had tried it on her. She had no experience with the feeling of it.

"We sell many kinds of goods, but I don't think it's my job to offer any of them. You should talk to my manager." Her tone was cold and business-like, and very efficiently avoided having to deal with the messiness of emotion.

"I'm sure I'll see you around."

She was definitely an ice queen. It was amusing. A challenge! Brilliant! "Oh, you will," he assured her, finally straightening up and picking up his package. He waved it a little, grinning. "The bakery gets regular deliveries, you know. Toodles."

Without giving her much of a chance to respond, or perhaps far too much time to linger on the idea of him being a regular sight, he spun on his heel and strolled toward the door.

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sorry I'm late, ridiculously busy weekend

it's cool! I'm pretty patient :)

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