lorentzian | 01 ✴ written / action

My name is Jane Foster. And if I'm remembering everything correctly, which I can hardly believe, then I've been here before. That being the case, there are a few people I need to talk to. You'll know who you are.

For those who don't know me, you might remember a spectacularly failed attempt at escaping the enclosure some time ago. (Sorry for the vague time frame. I haven't figured out yet how long I've been gone.) For anyone who arrived after that time, I'm an astrophysicist who specializes in wormholes. Well, it's more complex than that, I also study quantum energy fluctuations and related terrestrial phenomena pretty much all over the world - Earth, I mean. Earth. Earth in 2013, for anyone curious. Sorry, this is getting off topic.

In a nice turn of events, I didn't wake up outside, so no search and rescue needed this time.

I guess, um.

Hi, everyone. Old and new. It's - weird to be back.

[ Once she's done writing that plain, unembellished message, Jane shuts her journal and sighs, staring at the blank wall opposite her. Thank the powers at be for small blessings, like waking up warm and comfortable for once instead of half-frozen on a forest floor.

Since the apartment in which she awoke is one of the unclaimed ones, there's nothing really here for her to make use of - or, alternatively, disturb. So a short while later she is slipping out the door, walking on tip-toe down the halls and stairways, though she'll pause at the entrance of the building. She doesn't relish the idea of going out in the cold barefoot and in only a sundress. So she'll skulk about there, deliberating while checking her journal periodically for responses. Anyone who doesn't immediately strike her as Overtly And Comically Evil will probably get a hello. ]

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[ Oh man. Teenage boy bedroom.

Nerdy teenage boy bedroom.

Jane has to stifle a laugh the second she steps in. ]

Oh my god. What a dork. [ WITH SO MUCH FONDNESS. ]

[He reddens a little, scuffing a hand through his hair. You know what? This is a lot better than talking about everything else that needs discussing. He'll take even the teasing.

The room itself is pretty lived in, though. It's a mess, but lovingly so, and there are signs of Teddy's presence as well. Mostly when he opens the closet and it's half-full of clothes that wouldn't fit him properly, or fashions that don't suit him. He also pointedly ignores the spandex uniform buried against the corner wall.]

Y-yeah, yeah... this is actually nothing compared to my room back home. My, um. Collections are many.

[He steps back, gesturing and heading for the door.]

Take whatever you're comfortable with. You want something to eat?

[ Jane wrinkles her nose, amused and teasing and oh so unable to help herself. ]

Is Kirk still here? If so, don't tell him I said this, but I used to have his picture, you know, the Shatner version, taped to my wall. I know what it means to be a geek.

[ She does notice - can't help <>but notice - the way he ignores his uniform, But she won't pin him on it. Instead she gamely steps over to the closet and starts rifling through. ]

Sure. Whatever you have on hand is fine with me. Thanks, Billy.

[He nods and heads out with a wave, shutting the door behind him for privacy, then bustles about the kitchenette grabbing some food- a bit of fruit, crackers, chips. Lazy house-hosting foods. When she comes out it's scattered on the table with the coffee, and he's curled up on the couch with a blanket, and an extra one set aside for her.]

[ She emerges after a few minutes wearing this t-shirt over a pair of too-long sweatpants that she's had to roll up at the cuff. She can't seem to stop grinning. ]

Oh, my god. After my day, this is a feast. Thank you, Billy. [ She plops down on the couch beside him, sampling some of the fruit to wash down with coffee and settle under the blanket. ]

[He smiles at the shirt - good choice, Jane, good choice - and pulls his legs up a bit, passing her a pillow.]

I'd offer to cook you some real food, but Teddy's the only one who cooks in this place, and he's at school. You can come for dinner if you want, though.

Huh. That's funny. I thought this was real food, unless you just managed to serve me a really tasty wax replica.

[ In other words: don't worry about it, you doofus. She lifts her legs off the floor so she can sit cross-legged on the couch instead. ]

Not that I'm opposed to dinner, either. I'd like that, actually.

Ha ha.

[Billy drags the chip bowl closer to sit on the couch between them; he still hasn't had breakfast, and having a big sister over is the best excuse to avoid a healthy breakfast.]

So what kind of terrible day did you have for this to be a feast, exactly? What happened after you got back home?

[Because seriously why would he want to keep talking about himself by choice. Plus, catching up is totally important, too.]

01 ✴ written / action

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