Owner	Pose
Lucy	Erin Beaumont sits in a booth at a mostly abandoned diner. It's past the dinner rush, and Erin doesn't look like she's even there for food. She's got a drink in front of her, along with a stack of papers. Her platinum blonde hair is a bit frazzled, though still mostly intact, and her head rests in her hand. She sighs. At the front of the diner the person behind the counter likes most unamused right now. There is a small young woman, hardly more than a girl really, and she is currently on the balls of her feet pointing rather sternly at a small sheet of paper sitting in front of her. The hostess seems unamused. "Look, I have no idea where that's supposed to be. Go sit down if you're ordering something, otherwise I need you to leave." The woman rolls her eyes as she walks away and Lucia is elft to turn toward the room, her almost too wide blue eyes bright as she surveys the room. pensively. Slowly the girl takes a deep breath and takes a step forward. She pauses, retrieves her piece of paper, looks over the text written upon it, and breathes a quiet sigh. No noise but plenty of disruption. Erin Beaumont glances up from her papers as she hears the commotion. Somehow, she didn't hear the arguing earlier. Likely too wrapped up in her work. She calls out, "Hey, you, what are you lookingfor?" he girl blinks once and then straightens. he flashes Erin a brilliant smile, complete with perfect white teeth, and starts toward her with a determined stride. Blonde tresses bounce against slender shoulders. She's small buit her build and facial features suggest she's eighteen or so. A petite eighteen, perhaps. The girl offers the piece of paper to Erin. It reads, "1st Mayfield Hotel, Suite 23" Some people might remember the hotel in question. It was torn down six years ago. Apparently unaware the pretty, petite young woman now at Erin's table watches her features with vivid eyes and waits to see what she will learn. Erin Beaumont is, on the contrary, remarkably -not- petite. Standing at a decent 5'8", she's on the tall side...and incredibly busty, chest resting on the table, just in front of her papers. What a contraat. Erin peers at the papers from behind her glasses, then sighs. "That hotel was torn down years ago." She looks at the young girl from above her glasses and adds a quick "Sorry." Lucy frowns. She shakes her head slowly and then looks between the paper and Erin a couple more times. She bites her bottom lip and then fidgets slightly. A deep breath follows. Then another. She jabs a finger at the paper a couple times. blonde tresses bouncing to emphasize the movement. The girl starts to write down a new address. That's when a voice chimes in behind her, "Are you bothering my customers? Do I need to call the police...?" There's the surly waitress/hostess now. Lucy's gaze snaps to the far side of the room but she doesn't comment for now. Erin Beaumont lifts her head and smiles warmly at the waitress. "Not at all, ma'am. In fact, I called her over here." She lowers her gaze back to the small woman. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I couldnget you something." Somehow, the buxom woman's red eyes make her seem more friendly and warm, rather than aggressive. She gestures to the other end of the booth with a hand. "Go on, sit." The girl nods quickly and then a split second later she is sitting in the booth beside Erin. Lucy is warm, warmer than would be expected, but it is a pleasant sort of heat like being pressed to a warm blanket. She's obviously not overheating as there's no sweating or discomfort to be seen. Unusual, but one could explain it away. The girl nods again in response to food, pointing at her stomach. Lucy tosses her head afterward, casting blonde tresses behind her shoulder as she writes in neat script, "Thank you. Anything is okay." It takes a second. Not really a substitute for speaking. The girl makes a few gestures afterward, perhaps checking Erin's knowledge of ASL by repeating what she said. Erin Beaumont watches the girl curiously, still smiling. After a moment, she projec
Lucy	RErin Beaumont watches the girl curiously, still smiling. After a moment, she projects her thoughts out toward the smaller woman. Erin's voice sounds out through her head, as if they were her own thoughts. <I take it you're mute? How about this? Simply imagine yourself speaking to me, and I'll hear it.> She smiles wider after her bit of telepathy. The girl's eyes widen as the voice reaches into her pen. The pencil drops from her fingers. It bounces slightly and rolls in a way that draws a circle around its tip before coming to rest beside her sheet of paper. Then the girl tenses. She seems to be concentrating, blue eyes narrowing, wrinkles around their corners as seh scrunches up her face and thinks at Erin very hard. What comes out is not normal. <...Hank.? Dvits pdsst ...> The words are jumbled and almost staticky. It's work making it out. But, if Erin tries, <... Thank- you. I... Lucy?> She's still losing words. But it's intelligible. Erin Beaumont smiles wider still and continues. <Lucy, is it? That's a wonderful name. My name is Erin. I'm a mutant, and this what I can do. Among other things.> Erin lifts her head up and waves to the waiter. "Could we get a cheeseburger and fries over here, please?" She follows up by mentally noting, <You're awfully warm, you know...> Lucy nods in response ot that statement. She takes a deep breath and blwos a stray lock away from her face before shaking her head once. the girl studies Erin for a long moment. She has no problem with staring, whether at the woman's face or... Other features. There's a careful cast to her gaze, like she is commiting what she sees to memory. <I am very warm,> she agrees with the utmost care. <It's normal,> she adds in a way that is not quite dismissive. Blue eyes snap to the counter as food is ordered and then Lucy is stating, <A Telepath? Minds are scary places.> Erin Beaumont turns back to the paperwork in front of her, eyeing it over as she "speaks". <They can be, yes. Which is why I don't really touch them.> A small smirk forms on her lips, though she's still focused on the papers. <All I'm doing is projecting my words onto you, and allowing you to do the same.> <It's hard,> is the girl's response. <Hard to hear,> she adds then, canting her head slightly to the left as she cosniders Erin's face with a fair amoun of care. <Like pushing.> The frown darkens and finally Lucy sighs. She picks up her pencil and begins to sketch. <New destination. Purple. Strange contingency. Broken knife. Wrong.> She might be mumbling in her own brain. <You're not used to thinking in words, so it's not coming naturally to you. Was that ASL I saw earlier? I don't know it, but if I learned, my signs would start out awkward and clumsy, even though I know what they mean.> She chuckles quietly to herself, the diner oddly quiet with the two of them communicating nonverbally. The waitress comes by and sets the plate down lazily, letting it clatter slightly. "Here ya go, one burger an' a side of fries." She steps off with a slight sigh. The girl takes the burger and fries the waitress brought her and stares at the m with wide eyes. She replies with, <You're hard to hear,> she responds. <Only hear part. Have to interpolate the sum.> This is given rather blandly as the sketching continues. It's quite the intense sketch of a large, ornate hotel building. Then she sits up, lets out a quiet sigh, stretches out her slender arms, drops the pencil... And devours the burger at a tremendous pace. How can she fit food that quickly into a mouth that small? And then the food is gone. <Hungry.> The same completely unconcerned tone.
Lucy	Erin Beaumont glances to her right at Lucy and raises her eyebrow. <Interpolate the sum of what?> When Lucy starts devouring the burger, Erin's eyes go wide. "Wow," she mumbles aloud. "I could speak to you like this, and just keep that psychic channel open for you, if you'd prefer." It's late, and few people are around. She doesn't mind being more obvious about her mutations. <Easier,> Lucy agrees quietly. Then she is silent a moment longer. The girl picks up the pencil and starts to add to that sketch, staring at it carefully. After a moment she adds, <Sum of words. Words are ... Concepts. Nomials. Addition... Numeration. Possible variations of statements are only so many. Minor interpolation results in proper ... Answer. ... Result...> She scowls faintly for a second. <Difficult to finish some statements.> Erin Beaumont pauses for a moment to digest Lucy's words. "...Ah, so you mean it...takes you a moment for the right meanings to come to you, yes?" The waitress from earlier gives Erin a scowl, but quickly goes back to wiping down the counter. "I understand. Just try and speak the words that you'd otherwise write, alright?" A smile reappears on Erin's lips. "So, what do you want to talk about?" <Some words do not come,> Lucy responds plainly. <Cannot put words to some concepts. When writing or gesturing. Some words are in my mind but don't translate to paper. This is - better but still not right. It is...> There's a short pause and Lucy seems to be staring at nothing for a moment or else right into Erin's chest but then she finishes with, <Word selection anomia. Variant aphasia. Results in difficulty recalling some nouns or verbs.> The girl continues at length. Like she's quoting a textbook. <The subject will recall the word but it is unable to translate from knowledge to the speech centers of the brain.> Erin Beaumont pauses for a long moment, mulling this new information over. "...You aren't mute, you simply can't put the thoughts into words, even though you -know- the words. That sounds terrible. I'm so sorry you have to live with that." She sighs and gently rests a hand on her shoulder. "That must have been hard, growing up, hm?" <Speaking can be bad. Easier to write. Writing doesn't help the problem, but safer.> This response is given simply. When Erin reaches out to touch Lucy the girl stiffens visibly and then pauses for a long moment. She slowly exhales afterward, almost like she is deflating. <I don't know,> the girl continues laconically. Then she returns to her sketch. It's becoming quite detailed. Erin Beaumont gives the shoulder a gentle squeeze before removing her hand. "What do you mean? What don't you know? Write it, if it's easier." She looks down at the drawing and smiles. "That's really good. I can barely draw a stick figure, myself..." Eve does not draw like someone who is skilled. Her motions are almost mechanical, like she is copying something that isn't here. The girl's reply is, <Not easier. Same problem. Does not always match to knowledge. Direct information transfer is far more efficient. But hard. Pieces still missing. This is better.> Erin Beaumont 's words are becoming more and more padded with thoughtful silence. "Direct information transfer?" She pauses, then, "Like a computer? Or something else? Please, feel free to express your thoughts however you feel is best." <Computer? Yes. Computer?> Suddenly the girl's thoughts are more pointed. She looks up and then gives a blink. A second blink follows. <This is almost direct. Computer, moreso.> She bites her bottom lip now, staring while she does. Then she adds slowly, <Caloric values unmet.> She might be being sheepish or it could just be an... Interpolation.
Lucy	Erin Beaumont blinks a few times, then flags down the waitress again. "Two more burger combos. Hell, make them double patties. I'll tip generously." The waitress stares at Erin with a bored, unamused face, then scribbles down the order and steps off with a drawn out "Mmmmhm." "Then let's try and meet that caloric value, hm?" She switches back to telepathy. <Are you some kind of android, by chance?> Lucy shakes her head rather than speaking. She takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales, watching as the waitress leaves. <She likes you,> Lucy starts blankly. <Wants me to leave.> No real inflection to that either. Erin Beaumont scoffs audibly, then, <Nah, I just think she's against mutants. Or supers in general.> She takes a deep breath. "I've been picking your brain all night. Anything you'd like to know about me?" A smile widens across her lips. <No. Pulse rate increased, mild flush. Eye position,> Lucy disagrees flatly. Then she she is shifting in her seat. Food is now arriving at the table and the girl watches it as it is laid out. She doesn't acknowledge the waitress, however. <Resentful.> Then Lucy attacks the food. She does eat like a human, just with an efficiency and enthusiasm which is quite frankly astonishing for most people and galling to some. The waitress might be such a person. While she eats Lucy continues, <Query. What is your interest in me?> After a second she adds, <Query: What is your desired exchange for services given?> A beat follows. <I would like to know what you want.> Erin Beaumont smiles as Lucy tears into the food, though it's hard to tell if it's a forced smile or not. The waitress is already thoroughly galled. Lucy's a super of some kind, that's why. "I'd just like to help you out, that's all. You looked lost. And I don't--" She pauses for a moment. "I...could use a courier, I suppose. I stick out like a sore thumb. If I give you something, and an address to deliver it to, do you think you could handle it?" Lucy looks up from the small amount of the of food remaining and slowly nods. Somehow not a drop has landed on her clothing during all of this. Wait, there's just a drop on her shir- ... No, it vanished. Or maybe it wasn't really there. She takes a deep breath. <I can deliver it if coordinates are written,> Lucy agrees. After a moment she adds, <Thank you.> Then the girl finishes her food with no self-awareness whatsoever. Erin Beaumont stares at Lucy for a long moment. "Coordinates. Are you sure you aren't...some kind of machine? At least, partly? I ask only out of curiosity." She sighs. "But...yes, I can give coordinates. If I need something for you to...coury...I'll leave a note at--Where do you live, if I may ask?" <Many machines,> Lucy responds rather blithely. <An excellent computer.> After a moment the girl shifts in her seat and takes a deep breath, leaning her head back. <I can provide an email address,> she continues without actually addressing Erin's question about where she lives. the girl starts to rap her fingers on the edge of the table in a series of increasingly intricate percussive melodies. Erin Beaumont takes a deep breath, then nods. "Please. Write it down, if you can. Would you mind if I...tried to peer around a bit inside your mind? It'd just be like me walking around a room to see where I am...without going through your drawers and rifling through your things." She smiles reassuringly. "I can't read minds, I assure you. I'm not even sure if I have the -ability- to do so. But at worst, I'd only strain myself. What do you say?"
Lucy	<Suit yourself,> the girl responds without even looking up in a most bone chillingly flippant way. Then she is writing on the paper beneath her sketch of a long demolished hotel in neat print. The email address is presented to Erin along with the picture then. Lucy lowers her chin until it is almost on thetable and stares at her plate, saying nothing for the moment. Erin Beaumont closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. This is something she's never attempted before. Though she's familiar with simple telepathy, this is different, and through a mind that may not be human at all. She projects her mind into Lucy and peers around. Thought structure, brain composition, brainwave patterns, these were the things she was looking for. Just how human is this girl? The result is a deranged mess. there are human thoughts there but it's a jumble of raw information. Orange, square, poplar, place. Attraction, romance, sex. Life then death. Relife. Healing. Doctor. Dot. A small room with blocks. A tiny girl. "Lucy, can you tell me what color the block is?" The voice of a shadowed male figure. The girl shakes her head. It isn't that this isn't human thoughts but it's impossible to get one's bearings. It's raw, distorted mess, frenetic pacing as data streams by in fragments that are nearly impossible to latch onto. Perhaps with time and effort? Perhaps if one were a skilled telepath. But... Lucy, for her part, just continues to stare at the far wall. Erin Beaumont was prepared to see a brain-like CPU. She was prepared to see something alien and strange. She was prepared to see just a normal human mind, as well. But this was somehow a nauseating mix of all three that Erin was certainly not prepares for. She pulls the mental link away with a speed and force that even Lucy would be able to feel and leans forward against the table, head resting against...her breasts. (The buttons on her top also strain and creak at the pressure, but that's another problem.) She wraps her arms around her head and groans. "Oogh..." When the mental connection snaps suddenly Lucy stiffens. Her eyes go very wide and then she's staring right at Erin. It lasts for a split second before the girl is screaming. Her cheeks are flushed while the rest of her is quite pale and the trembling is visible on her slender, pretty frame. the blonde springs up from the table then. She starts babbling. "012317," she starts. "Failure. Loss of- Square? Cube? Color, thought. Name is-" Then she claps both hands over her mouth, dives over the back of the booth and sprints away with all the speed of an Olympic athlete that she doesn't have the build for. Chairs are bowled over in her haste. The last thing Erin would notice is that the girl is crying. Erin Beaumont grunts and covers her ears at the shrieking. She's still got a massive headache from the psychic prodding, and that just made things worse. By the time she finally lifts her head up and shouts for Lucy, she's already gone. She tries to reach her via telepathy, but...oh, right, she just broke that link. She sighs and rests her head in her hands and goes about massaging her temples.
Lucy	The waitress looks thoroughly unamused as she is straightening up after Lucy's tempestuous flight. The diminutive blonde is nowhere to be seen at the moment, having long since reached the doors. Still, there's the picture in front of Erin. And the email address written beneath it. blackseraphim@touchingthesky.net