trans_9 | Pointed Ponderings [open]

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Pointed Ponderings [open]

After the meet and greet, Jamie needed to think. There was a /lot/ of information that he had gotten that he needed to process, and he wasn't entirely sure where the best place would be to go and do that. He wasn't at all sure he was up for creepy sleeping areas or a lot of the other places that had been described...and he was still missing his knife.

Figuring that he could try and sort out this thoughts while he was looking, he made his way back to the weapons and possessions locker, starting where he had found his kilt. He's in there now, rummaging around, but being careful to put things back where he found them afterwards.

Spotting a promising looking knife, he pulls it from its sheath and holds it up, looking at the blade of the knife intently. His back is currently to the door, and he seems completely absorbed in his study of the small weapon.

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Lois stumbles over things for a grand total of three seconds while the ray melts through things, and while her first stupid knee-jerk reaction is to grab the death-pen, she realizes she needs something to stop it with, and when she freaked out, well...

Where did the cap go?

"Crap, who makes these things?!" she says, frantically, looking around.

"You think /I/ would know?" Jamie's voice is sounding a little strained, as
he is desperately trying to find the cap - or anything, really, that he thinks will stop the ray.

He spots the helmet Lois discarded earlier, and makes a dive towards it. Maybe it'll at least contain the melting a little.

"I don't know, maybe you visited a future with –– with laser pens!"

Lois kicks herself into business mode (or maybe that classic stupid dive-right-in mode, the one with no care for consequences.) She's not about to leave the thing rolling around causing trouble, so she steps around Jaime as he dives, and much like trying to pick up something from a hot griddle with bare fingers, she tries to pick it up as fast as she can.

"Findthestupidcap!"

"Aye, but they had off switches and not caps!" He's grabbed the helmet and is running back towards Lois when he steps on something pink, scarf-like and slippery and loses his balance. The helmet goes flying off in one direction, Jamie in the other. He manages to break his fall, and as luck would have it, there is a small piece of blue plastic right in front of his nose.

"I got it!" He grabs the cap and runs over towards Lois.

Lois is standing there with the pen at arm's length, aiming it at what looks like a ceremonial robe of some sort. Sorry, owner, whoever you are. She looks down at Clumsy MacKilt with the meanest pointed look she can muster at the moment.

"Well, get it on without burning your fingers off, then!"

It's a good thing that Jamie has some old-fashioned views about women, including not insulting them to their face. He narrows his eyes at Lois for a moment, however, then tilts the cap so it's between him and the laser beam.

"Aye, I will, thank you."

He's careful about his fingers, but does get the cap on in a few seconds. Or a small eternity, from his point of view.

He lets out a long sigh, then asks, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, just surprised that office supplies could be death tools in disguise," she says, a touch snippy. Seriously, though, what the hell was that? She turns the pen over between her hands, inspecting it.

"How about you?"

His ego's a bit bruised, but that's about it. "Och, I'm fine." He picks up the offending slippery scarf, and gives it a very dark look before tossing it out of the way.

"I can't say the same for some of the things in here, though."

"Whoever owns this thing can cover damages," she says, picking up a hardcover book that had a perfect tunnel bored through it.

And then, remembering her manners, she turned to Jamie and stuck out her hand to shake.

"And I'm Lois Lane, by the way."

"Aye, I suppose they can, at that." He looks at the book and cautiously extends his hand towards it, like he's going to poke a finger into the hole. He thinks better of it at just about the time Lois holds out her hand, and opts to turn the gesture into a brief, but firm, handshake.

"Jamie McCrimmon. Pleased to meet you."

He smiles at her before returning to the contemplation of the book. "I wonder..."

He looks down. "What d'you think the chances are that something wooden got burnt just enough by that pen that it turned to charcoal?"

Not, perhaps, the best option. But certainly better than the Laser Pen of Death.

"Please to meet you, too," she says, and when she lets go of his hand, she subtly pockets the pen. Could come in handy. Hey, with a time traveling ring and a death pen, she had the makings of a super-reporter arsenal.

She watches him pore over the book, and considers it for a moment.

"I dunno. Not to play with lasers or anything, but we could test it out."

Jamie snorts. "Aye. At least not any without visible off switches."

There's also a bit of an arched eyebrow as he notes her pocketing the pen, but instead he says, "So, I think the question is - if we're not playing with lasers, are we willing to risk searching through this to see if we can find a wee bit of burnt out wood?"

He's willing, although a little leery at the prospect.

There's a bit of a grin.

"I laugh in the face of risk," she says, boldly. "I'll do it. What are you looking for burnt out wood for, anyway?"

Jamie tries very, very hard to keep impatience with Lois from creeping into his voice. After all, what seems obvious to him may not be to her. He succeeds...mostly.

"If it's burnt enough to be charcoal," he comments, "you can write with it."

He's trying to be helpful, here, honest.

Oh.

Oh.

She lifts her eyebrows for a second, and then gives a little amused snort.

"I appreciate the thought, but regular ink pens? Way easier. No offense or anything."

There's a shrug at that.

"Your choice, really." If she doesn't want to use the charcoal, it's her loss.

Since she doesn't seem interested in his idea, he doesn't bother looking for any burnt wood, specifically, but instead goes back to rummaging absently through the mess for the notebook and pen.

After a few moments, he looks over at Lois. "What will you do if we can't find the pen, then?" Because other than the death pen, and the charcoal idea, he's coming up with a bunch of nothing.

"Would just not write...uh, whatever it is you write?" He didn't think to ask earlier, what with the lasers and all.

"I guess I'll use their little computers, but seriously, I hate typing. If you ever see me on the network, you'll see that. It's slow, and all the typos... I can't be bothered."

She resumes the hunt.

"I'm a reporter."

Jamie can understand that. "I'm not much better. It's not like they had computers back in my time in Scotland, aye?"

Seeing she's poking around again, he gives it another go as well but looks up with interest at the word 'reporter'.

"Oh, so you look for information and write stories about it?" Sounds kind of fun, actually.

"I was a piper, before."

"They keep telling me practice, or to take classes, but it doesn't make a difference. The second they invent computers that type whatever I'm thinking, it'll be good." She pauses. "No, scratch that, I wouldn't have a job."

And her editor would kill her.

"But it's more than looking for information and writing stories. It's about getting to the bottom of things and exposing the truth, and that's exactly what I do."

When not writing about stray kitten charity cases, anyway.

But given his accent, she shouldn't have been surprised. "And what's life like being a piper?"

Jamie's eyes twinkle as he says, "Noisy."

More seriously, he adds, "I was the piper for clan McLaren, and it was a great honor. Usually, you would play the pipes before a battle, to inspire the men of the clan, but there were other occasions."

He's quiet, then, and admits, "It's been awhile since I've played properly." He's kept in practice with his chanter, but...

"Sounds interesting. My dad's a General in the military; we don't use the trumpet so much anymore, but it pretty much the same concept."

She pauses in her search to look up at him.

"Well, if I find bagpipes buried somewhere in this mess, I'll set 'em aside for you."

Jamie will love you forever for that. The rest of the crew might not, so much.

"Aye? Thank you. The Doctor wasna so fond of my playing."

He winces internally, then. He hadn't planned on bringing that name into the conversation at all, and he's kicking himself for letting it slip. Stupid, Jamie, stupid.

Lois doubts there a bagpipe in here, but who knows.

"Hey, you're helping me find stuff, might as well return the favour," she says. "But I can guess why people wouldn't be so fond of it. It does sound obnoxious."

She didn't seem to notice the slip, or decided it wasn't worth investigating. That was a bit of a relief.

"Well, I suppose to the untrained ear it could be a wee bit irritating, I'll admit. But I think it's grand."

And hey, if there isn't a bagpipe in here, he bets he can get an imaginary one to work in the Sensoriums.

"I'll give you fair warning if we do find one, alright?"

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Pointed Ponderings [open]

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