i_speak_softly | Sixty-Second Theory [Action]

[The noise is the loudest in the house itself. With the refugees being herded out of the enclosure, Leo's returned to his normal routine. More or less.]

What happened to taking it easy, Don? [He's leaning on the door frame of the room, looking around at the stripping of the walls. His tone slightly amused. And Don was telling him to take it easy?]

[Crisis situation is over, or nearly so. No more time for laying around.]

[Don tosses Leo a second pick-ax. He helped with your butchering; you're going to put in some time on his construction project.]

[Yes, but they still don't know when supplies will start arriving again.

He easily catches the pick-ax before he pushes off the door frame and walks further into the room.]

So, what are you turning this room into?

For the cold thing.

[He sizes up a still-intact section of wall, then starts going at it with his own ax.]

[Leo watches Don for a moment to get the idea of what to do. He finds a spot to start hacking away too.

Cold thing? Give him a minute as he tries to figure out what Don meant.]

[Don thinks that was perfectly clear, so he assumes Leo understood. If you want further explanation, you'll have to ask.]

Alright, what cold thing?

[He looks over at Don. You're not turning it into a walk in cooler, are you?

[Blink, because that was a delayed reaction and Don's train of thought has moved on to other stations already.]

You know. The thing we do, in the cold.

Oh right, that.

[Something to help with the cold, got it. He's silent for a bit as he works, before he speaks up again.]

Perhaps it's time to take a break. [It's obvious to him that Don's been at this for a while. He'll stop his own work to emphasize.] I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.

[Don recognizes a rephrasing of "Whatever, Donnie" when he hears it, but as long as Leo is working constructively, it's good enough.]

[When Leo stops working, Don does too. He's pretty sure he hasn't been at this for 24 hours or more, but he trusts his brother's sense of time more than his own.]

[What did you want to talk about, oni-san?]

[He leans his ax against the wall. Oh Leo knows he's been going on for some time. It's hard to miss the noise of walls being chopped down.]

What do you think of going on a camping trip? [He turns to look at Don as he asks.] This time taking Robert along with us. [Leo's sure it'll take some convincing to get the human to come.]

[At the first question, Don looks interested, but at the second his expression changes to something more like Are you out of your mind.]

[Leo puts a hand up to stop protest.]

Hear me out. I know this won't be easy. But getting Robert out of his element might do him some good. Not to mention that after everything that's been going on. [Including Don dying.] He could probably stand to get away from the village too. Or at least some place that's not just practice...or work.

[Don is doubtful of your plan, Leo. He's listening, but he's not yet convinced.]

[Oh please, when has his plans ever failed?

...wait, don't answer that.]

I believe we can make it work, we will just have to convince Robert.

[~~Damn.~~]

[And good luck with that.]

Where?

The western lake.

[Yes Don, a 30 mile hike.]

[Haha, tell him another one.]

[Seriously, Leo, if you wanted Don to build an extension to the teleporter network, you could have given him more notice. He's kind of in the middle of another project right now.]

[Jeez Don. Leo's not laughing. If anything he's scowling a little, putting his hands on his hips.]

Don, I'm serious.

[Oh shell.]

Leo, there? Him?

Yes, him and there. We can make it work.

[Okay, Fearless. Go execute your brilliant plan. Don't say Don didn't tell you it was crazy.]

[Leo did say it wouldn't be easy. He's not stupid.]

This will have upsides to it in the end. You'll see, Robert will be better for it.

[Damn you and your strategic mindset. If you wanted an argument Don would be swayed by, you found it.]

[Robert has already been neurotic enough about the relative inability to clean Luceti in its current state, so Don destroying the room is making it worse, what with throwing all of the dust around.

He doesn't immediately go inside; the refugee Kin'corans are a distraction, and he wanted to make certain that Anatoly was alright first. But when he does, the first thing he gravitates towards is the room. He doesn't entirely want to - even the thought of that much dust is disturbing right now - but he needs to know what Don is doing.]

...

Can you... explain what the point of this is...?

[Maybe. Don puts his pick-ax down momentarily, so he can locate some sketched blueprints and give them to Robert. The drawing is clearly of this room, though somewhat modified. The equations in the margins seem to primarily concern R-factors.]

[Hmm. The blueprints are a sufficient enough distraction that - even with the thin film of dust on their surface - Robert is immediately curious. He studies the plans intently, pausing only to look up at the actual room itself.

It looks much different with everything taken out of it... somehow almost sad, like the bare exoskeleton of a room. But in the same sense, it also has an anticipatory feeling about it - it's going to become something else.]

... Ah, I see...

A... a sort of insulated chamber...? [Give him a moment to come up with a rationale as to why Don would want to make that.]

[With a simple nod - Robert will figure this out in a minute - Don hefts the ax again and resumes hacking at the wall.]

[As expected, the Turtle-savvy biologist gets it in a moment.]

... An environmental chamber... for warmth?

[On one hand, part of Robert is selfishly pleased. Assuming it works properly, this means Don and Leo can at least have periods - or a place - where they can be... themselves. Or, well. This part of themselves, anyway.

On the other hand, he's a little worried. Would long-term exposure to this make them ill?]

Ah... do you think it is a safe idea...? [He knows that pet turtles were apparently kept at these temperatures consistently (not that anybody has pet turtles in Terra except for eccentric collectors) in order to avoid brumation, but it doesn't sit right with him.]

[Don nods to these things. The potential dangers are beyond his ability to explain right now, even if he was willing to admit they exist.]

[Well, if Don's not worried about it, then Robert probably shouldn't be either. (Even though he will be.)]

Then... how might I be able to help you?

... At the least there... should be a way to clean this... sometime. [He is not too thrilled about how inconsistently he's been able to clean. Maybe if the power is at all more consistent soon, it'll be less of a problem.]

[Don will clean it when he's done, he swears.]

[To redirect Robert from that line of thinking, Don sticks a pencil in his hand. Why don't you check the math on these schematics?]

[Okay, okay, fine, don't let him obsessively scour for dust or anything.

It's still odd to use a pencil instead of a keyboard. Robert carefully props the schematics up against a section of the wall so that he can write, and then begins analyzing the math thoroughly. Are there any glaring errors?]

[The math is correct, but Don has probably left out something he should have considered. Will Robert find what's missing?]

[... Hmm... ...

... Aha.]

You forgot to account for heat diffusion through the window panes.

[Scribble, scribble, scribble. Robert will just helpfully model that for you, Don.]

[How could he miss that? Don smacks himself in the forehead, then casts an appreciative grin at Robert. One of the many reasons he keeps you around.]

[Hooray for being useful! (Though Robert would hope Don keeps him around for more than just his math troubleshooting abilities.)

While he's at it, he may as well ask another question.]

If the heating system of this room is separate... might it also not be suitable as a sort of greenhouse? [It's not like they have to worry about racking up an electricity bill, and presumably magic is relatively clean energy, right?]

[(Of course.)]

[Don glances around, and shrugs. Why not?]

[Awesome. This is the closest thing you'll get to squeeing from Robert, bar an event.]

Ah, excellent... I can move the saplings in here then, once it is settled. It will certainly be... a much more suitable environment for them here...

... Perhaps the room could do with other forms of heat-resilient greenery? [And now you have him excited, Don.]

[Don is glad Robert has found something to enjoy about this project. While the scientist geeks out, Don will pry some stubborn slabs of drywall from the half-exposed studs.]

[Wait, there's a problem here. Don's doing all the work and Robert's not doing anything at all except geeking out.

Hmm.]

... Are there any tools I can get for you? [Or, you know, he could actually try doing something, though who knows if he's strong enough.]

Mm-mm.

[Don't worry about it. Physical labor is something he can still do without any help, and it feels good.]

[Well, okay. Robert doesn't like to just sit around doing nothing, though.

So he takes another look at the plans. Not that he's going to take over them or anything, but it might be nice to get some ideas for technology in here. Obviously they're limited by antiquity, but with Don's ingenuity and engineering skills, and Robert's knowledge, they might be able to cobble together some system for controlling other factors about the room that might make it more palatable to ectotherms. Maybe even some kind of controlled water sources? Who knows.

In between his thinking, he glances up and over at Don's working. There's something soothing about watching him do it, even when he's letting off clouds of drywall dust in the process, and it's definitely nicer than the lethargic nothing of before.]

[That vague quadrilateral in the corner of the sketch? A big bathtub.]

[With obvious effort, Don tears off a huge chunk of the plaster, which he promptly tosses onto the floor. Sorry about the resulting dust cloud...]

[Oho, so it is. That's easier to determine after a closer look at the quadrilateral in question - it's hooked up to a water source, after all.

That dust cloud didn't go over well though. Coughing in a sort of exaggerated way, Robert immediately puts his face into the crook of his arm and staggers back a bit, using the paper to fan away the rest of the dust. A carpenter this one is not.]

[Oops. Realizing what he did, Don calls up a little Wind magic to help pull the dust together and away from Robert.]

Are you okay?

[After another moment or two of coughing, Robert wipes the dust off his glasses' lenses using part of his sleeve (with a noticeable frown; he hates having to do that) and then nods.]

... I am alright, but... so much dust; it is a respiratory hazard...

Should you not be wearing a mask?

[Don's nostrils twitch open and closed as he considers this novel suggestion. His usual instinctive solution is just to not breathe much.]

[Brilliant solution there, genius.]

It would not take long to find a mask for you... [Though most might be silly to fit across Don's snout, come to think of it.]

[It's simple and effective okay.]

[Don shrugs. He would probably wear one if you brought it to him (at least until he misplaced and forgot about it), but it's no big deal if he doesn't have one.]

[It's something for him to do then. Robert, spurred into action by a potential objective, moves to go search for a good mask for Don.]

... Give me a moment. I will go do so.

[Knowing Don, he'll just keep working and turning the room into a mess, though.]

[No, he'll keep working and try to sweep up the dust a little. It's not terribly effective and will probably make Robert want to do it obsessively himself.]

[It is very difficult to resist the impulse to actually do so when he catches Don beginning, but Robert manages to stop himself and heads out of the room.

Less than five minutes later he's back with two standard-issue medical masks, with elasticized bands at the back - hopefully one'll fit comfortably over Don's significantly-wider beak - and cleaning materials. He knows he should probably wait until after, but the dust is driving him crazy.]

Here, Don. [He extends one of the masks Turtle-ward, clutching the other in his own hand.]

Edited 2012-09-07 02:18 (UTC)

[Don looks at the mask doubtfully, but puts it on. Immediately, the thin paper starts getting sucked into his nostrils every time he inhales.]

[... This is not going to work.]

[...

The irritated look on Robert's face is akin to someone finding a mismatched pair of socks.]

Well.

I suppose this will be... more difficult than I thought...

[And he's honestly not sure if sturdier masks exist that would fit Don's beak properly. Stupid human-centric designers.]

[Don takes the mask off before he hurts himself, and awkwardly hands it back to Robert. Thanks for the thought, at least.]

There has to be some way... [Now even more determined to find some method of protecting the Turtle's lungs (because why should only Robert be able to have it?), Robert stares irritably at the paper mask in his hands, attempting to figure out how to properly fit it across Don's face.]

I would not... wish for you to become ill, Don. I am certain you are aware of the dangers of certain kinds of dust...

[Yes, yes, of course he knows. Are you going to lecture him about the unhealthy side effects of his habits?]

[No, but he is going to worry about Don's health forever until he can find a way to fix it or at least not to worry so much.]

So then you must be safe... constructing something like this is counter-intuitive if it puts your health at risk...

[Don has faced so many things in his life, a little dust doesn't even register as unsafe. Having the risks pointed out to him like this is kind of annoying. In a world of healing magic and temporary death, he just wants to live his life and damn the dangers.]

[Realizing Don is still working despite all of this, Robert frowns in a confused sort of way. Are you really going to do this despite the danger?]

Don... [Yes, he is genuinely afraid of this despite everything that has happened. Perhaps it's ridiculous, but Robert is basically hyperacutely aware of potential danger to his partner now.

Might need to shoo him off, Don. Or distract him with the dust's presence. Maybe if Robert can clean it as Don works he won't be as paranoid?]

[Wielding the broom like a bo, Don strikes defiantly at the pile of dust. Don't tell him one of the few things he can still find satisfaction in is too dangerous.]

[Okay, that works to shoo Robert off at least, though it's not exactly the nicest way to do it.

The scientist scuttles backwards, away from the cloud of dust hanging in the air, and shields his face from it - though it's too late to stop a coat of the stuff from spraying across his lab coat and arms. Luckily his eyes are protected from the dust by his omnipresent glasses, and his reaction time isn't as slow as it used to be, but his sputtering makes it obvious he didn't expect that.

A few moments later, his brain registers that he's covered in dust, and that's enough to trip the little mental switch that says he's filthy and needs to remove it right away. He instantly launches into a tirade of arm-wiping.]

[Don is too angry to feel very bad about this. Showing a minimum of sympathy, he pushes a somewhat-used towel into Robert's hands, and points him towards the door. Go clean up.]

[The fact it's somewhat-used is just making this whole thing worse. Robert skitters back towards the door, holding the towel with a touch that suggests the object is as repulsive as the rest of the dust, and uses it to wipe off part of his arm.

It doesn't really help much. The dust sort of just gets smeared everywhere all over the coat's sleeve.

With a neurotic sort of expression, Robert rubs at the area again. And again. And again.

... Rinse, repeat, for a few dozen times.

Give him a moment. The week's been a little much for him.]

[Thank you for being disgusted by Don's sweaty towel, Robert; that really makes him feel good.]

[The Turtle steers the panicking scientist more forcibly out of the room, and slams the door behind him. Maybe don't come back for a while.]

...

[At first, there's complete non-comprehension as Don pushes Robert out the door, since Robert is so wrapped-up in his various neuroses to really notice why. But when the door is quite suddenly slammed in his face -]

... Don?

[He doesn't try to open the door again. Even Robert can understand what a door slammed in his face means.

This is the angriest he has ever made Don, and he has absolutely no idea what it was he did. Completely bewildered and hurt, Robert just stares at the closed door, a physical recreation of the distance between them, before he starts to cry silently.]

[For the next few minutes, Don loudly and violently tears down the remaining chunks of drywall, throwing them to the floor until the interior structures behind them are laid bare. When that's done, his initial anger is spent, and he turns to the task of cleaning up the mess.

Intact pieces of the wall are piled in a corner, to be taken away later. The dustpan is filled, many times, and tipped carefully into the bushes under the window. When he's finished, it's probably still not up to Robert's obsessive standards, but it should at least not look like a health hazard anymore.

From there, Don slips silently into the bathroom to wash up, then to the kitchen to boil some water.

About an hour after the slam of the door, he enters Robert's room, quiet and penitent. The man is hunched in a corner, staring at nothing, half-dried teartracks streaking his face.

Don kneels beside him - slow, calm, formal - and offers a steaming cup of the Terran's favorite tea. Peace?]

[An hour. A lot of things can happen in an hour.

Robert wasn't standing in front of the door crying the whole time, no. Even his processes function better than that. He could only stand a few minutes of it, the angry noises of destruction behind the door juxtaposed with the dark staring silence of its surface, and when it rapidly became evident that Don's emotions were not changing, he left. What else was there to do?

Since then he's obsessively scoured dust from his clothing and himself, washed Don's towel at least twice over (and no, it wasn't the sweat that bothered him, it was the dust on that too), and then... emptiness set in. Suddenly the dust's presence seemed unproblematic next to whatever trouble he caused.

As he is wont to do in any situation where he has caused a problem and can't understand what it is, he essentially retreated to his room to hide.

And that, of course, is where Don finds him. He is indeed staring at nothing, and there are worrying marks on his hands where he's been rhythmically rubbing them. His nanocomputer sits open at his desk, screen blank and forgotten. It's evident he tried to write something, failed, and then simply got caught up in his own thoughts. Don's towel, cleaned and almost reverently folded on the bed, is likely the only sign he's done anything whatsoever.

At first the noise of the door opening, and the light of the hallway filtering in, is not noticed by the occupant. But the sweet scent of tea in a room as sterile as Robert's...

He turns, enough to see Don there, kneeling, and he doesn't really know what to say.]

...

[He takes the tea from Don's hands, cradles it like a lifeline, and looks into his eyes.

Peace.]

[Don remains silent, letting Robert drink the calming tea. If the scientist hasn't said anything yet when half the cup is gone, the Turtle will begin with:]

I'm sorry.

[Robert immediately shakes his head.]

I am the one who... sh-should be sorry...

[Didn't he cause he the problem? (Doesn't he always?)]

[It's not important who's at fault. What matters is that they were upset with each other, and now they've made up.]

[Don shifts a little closer, resting their shoulders together. Is this okay?]

[Yes, it's okay. Robert lets his shoulders relax and leans into Don slightly, a small half-smile on his lips.]

... I... must be f-frustrating, sometimes. [He means his obsessive desire to make everything clean, but unknowingly this could apply to his equally-obsessive desire to keep Don safe and out of trouble.]

[That sounds like a dangerous thing to agree to, so Don goes for the safer:] Me too.

[Robert's just being self-disparaging, nothing new.

But in response to that, he takes Don's hand with his own free hand and squeezes it gently. It's not a word, but it's an unspoken "no".]

... I want you to... be h-happy, Don.

[Don's shoulders slump, and he turns a little to face Robert more easily.]

I want to - do it.

[Do what? The project?]

You wish to... continue working? Or...

[Nod. He's enjoying the project itself, and looking forward to the result. Please don't ask him to stop.]

[After a few moments, Robert murmurs -]

... Is... is it that you... do not w-want to wear anything? Was that the issue...?

[It's a little halting. He doesn't want to make Don upset again, but he also worries.]

... Because... if that is important to you, then... I suppose you... do not need to...

No, it... [He taps his snout, indicating the way the mask was suffocating him. He wouldn't mind wearing something that fit.]

... Would it be better if I made you something, then? [They could guarantee a fit that way, and it'd be sturdy enough to use more than once.

He looks earnestly up at Don. You aren't mad because he wants you to be safe, right?]

[Don nods, but very hesitantly. He has a sense now that if a properly-fitting mask became more than just theoretical, he would find it to be as restrictive and embarrassing as the one he tried earlier. He's kind of regretting implying that he would wear one.]

Edited 2012-09-09 03:51 (UTC)

[The problem here is largely a perception one, namely of degrees of acceptable risk. Robert doesn't really understand how Don can just dismiss the risks of what he's doing without protecting himself if the protection is available.

At the same time though, he also doesn't want to prevent him from doing something he wants to do. It's a tight situation.]

... I-In the interim, I... I could clean the r-room while you work...?

[It's not the best possible solution, no. But it's better than the alternative and it'd give Don a free pair of hands to help in a pinch.]

[No, that - is not a good solution. Don goes into a kind of Zen when he's working, and he'd rather not have non-ninjas in the vicinity when he's wielding power tools.]

[... Mm. There's really no other way, then, is there?

Robert sighs a little and glances down once more.]

... Do you think Nala's healing magic would help any damage...? [It seems ridiculous to rely on that, not when they could just prevent it entirely, but he doesn't want Don hurting himself. (Of course, chances are Don won't hurt himself enough for it to be a problem, but Robert really does worry. The marks on his hands are proof of that.)]

Edited 2012-09-09 04:18 (UTC)

[Don looks down at his plastron. He doesn't feel damaged, but he'll let you try some healing magic if it would really make you happier about the situation.]

[It would. At the least it would make him slightly less paranoid and also feel useful.

Closing his eyes, Robert presses his palm gently against Don's plastron, and concentrates. For him, the magic is a very mental process, his brain focusing on the knowledge and the structure of Don's Turtle lungs as he channels the power of the magic into him. He wishes he understood it better, but for now he knows it is, for him at least, a partially-physical process.

If Don's lungs were feeling at all constricted or even inconvenienced, that feeling is probably rapidly dissipating.]

[All Don feels is a sort of warm tingling in his chest, and maybe a vague sensation in his throat like he just swallowed a cough drop.]

[Guess he was okay after all.]

[Oh well. Robert is still glad for the effort, anyway, and it wasn't particularly difficult or taxing. Releasing his grip and letting his concentration fade, he glances up at Don again.]

... Thank you for... indulging me. [His anxieties, especially.]

[It's no problem. Your teacup is empty. Can he take it away for you?]

[Of course. Robert will just give it to Don directly.

In retrospect, he thinks this argument ended better than he could have hoped.]

[Beast is just returning from the farmland, exhausted and still not well fed, but not wanting to go back to his house just yet in case it will be trashed. Instead he finds himself wandering over to the other end of the village, nearly walking into the line of Kin'corans... he doesn't even have the energy to feel relieved, that's how exhausted he is right now.

But his alertness is triggered by the smashing and ripping sounds he is hearing from House 55. Knowing who lives there, he stumbles over and stares, dazed, at the turtle at work.]

D... Don?

[Don pauses and leans out the window to see who's calling him. Hey, it's Beast.]

Hi. How are you?

I-I'm... [Well... that's not important.] Wh... wh-what are you doing?

[A gesture at the mess inside the room.]

Continuation project.

[Staring. He's so matter-of-fact about it.] Wh-what are you... continuing?

[Um. What are you talking about?]

You... y-you said i-it was a... "con-ti-nu-a-tion"... project?

No, a conjugation -- it goes up!

[CONSTRUCTION. You understand?]

[Oh right, Don has... talking problems. Because of the Malnosso. The Malnosso... ugh. Staring at the walls now, trying to make sense of what Don said.] It... g-goes... up...

[He gestures around at the tools and things. Come on, Beast; you can figure this out.]

[Sorry, Don, he is trying to think it through, he's just really tired right now. Right, um... tools... goes... up...] You're... y-you're, uh... f-fixing... this...?

[Close enough. He nods.]

[A sigh of relief... he understood, good. But why he's doing exactly what he's doing still confuses him. Or maybe it's because he's so tired.] Y-you n... need... to do this... to "fix"... it?

[Nod. It probably seems paradoxical to the uninitiated, but a process of building or fixing is often preceded by a process of taking-apart.]

A-alright... and... wh-what will it be... o-once it's... I mean...?

[Um.]

It's - a Turtle thing.

A... Turtle... thing? [Does he mean something only he as someone in a turtle body would understand?]

[Nod. He really wouldn't want to explain it, even if he could.]

Oh. A... alright.

[Then he... probably should be leaving Don to it, since he's beginning to feel uncomfortable standing here asking questions.] W-well, uh... g-good... luck... uh... g-goodbye. [Waving awkwardly.]

Bye. [He stops himself from saying Beast's name. He's afraid of what it might come out as.]

Sixty-Second Theory [Action]

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[Action] Yes Don, he probably is. /shot

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it can't really be anything other than action, can it

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