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tushanshu2013-08-29 12:51 am
coneofsilence) wrote in tushanshu2013-08-29 12:51 am
▻ᴠ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ᴏ [ .003 ]
[[ ooc; blue is for Lincoln, red is for Liv! ]]
[ Lincoln's reached over with one hand to turn the console on in the bakery that Astrid had owned on, while he's mid-sentence into shouting to the other side of the room, head still turned. ]
--Isn't the first rule they always tell you in grade school science classes that you don't eat in the lab? So you don't accidentally ingest cyanide or something?
[ A pause, and he mutters lowly. ] Christ, we're gonna have so many lawsuits. [ That's a super good way to advertise a business, Lincoln, good job. He opens his mouth to speak directly to the network, but is interrupted by a loud bark, expression dropping to a deadpan as he reaches down to pick up what looks like a blueberry muffin, shakes at something lower than the camera, and then lobs it across the room. You might see the bouncing tail of a golden retriever chasing after it in the background. ]
We know we can’t be the only ones here interested in looking into all of this on a scientific level. Has anyone done that already? Or, more so, has--
[ At this point a certain redhead can be seen in the background and she bends down to wrestle the remains of the muffin while yelling across the room at Lincoln, so the feed picks it up, though it’s quiet from how far away she is. ]
Lincoln! I thought I told you stop feeding Finley muffins! I know he can digest them just fine but they’re not good for him.
[ Lincoln’s mouth just sort of hangs open mid-sentence while a voice comes from somewhere off screen to chastise him, expression falling flat, and once the scolding is over, he just sort of mutters off the last part of it halfheartedly. ] ...anyone found the tools to do that-- Chugging coffee like you may as well be mainlining it isn’t good for you either!
[ Called out over his shoulder as the bouncing fluff of golden retriever tail makes it’s way back to him, and Lincoln breaks off a piece of muffin next to him, puts a finger over his lips in a ‘shh’ motion, and sneaks him another bite. Good dog. ] I’m kind of trying to do something productive here, actually, Agent, so if you don’t mind, can we play the Deprive My Dog Of Good Things game later?
[ Olivia moves closer to the screen until she’s right behind him and leans her arm on his head, pushing him forward and down so she can lean in over him and get her face in view of the camera. There’s a grin on her face and she pats Lincoln’s bowed head sort of patronizingly. ]
Someone talk some sense into him? He’s going to make that dog fat. Happy, but extremely fat. But, speaking of productivity, we could do with some lab equipment. We’ve got space here we’d like to use, but it doesn’t have the equipment Walter needs. We’d really appreciate any help, whether it be equipment or advice on where to look for stuff. Thanks.
[ By the end she has a fairly professional smile and attitude, even though she’s still totally leaning on Lincoln. What bad friend and colleague. Just the picture of professionalism there. ]
[ And Lincoln just sort of lets this happen, because this is basically his life right here. He’s totally the high ranking officer, can you tell. But there’s a hint of a half-smile on his lips despite the eyeroll and the way he glances up to her to talk, tone more of a quiet thing between the two of them. ] If Broyles were here, we’d be fired, you know that, right? Like double fired. Triple fired, and he’d make us clean his car with tooth brushes.
[ Clearing his throat, he makes some attempt at actually looking like a Department of Defence employee and straightens up, causing Liv to have to flop back. ] On that note, if anyone has an expertise in physics, biochemistry, or any sort of scientific field that has done any researched on Tu Vishan, we’d like to share notes.
[ And with a casual glance down to the muffin he’d given a bit to Finley off of, Lincoln lets out a huff, and seems almost pained to be mentioning this next part. Omfg why is Astrid not here, he wasn’t supposed to be Fringe Team Baked Goods spokesperson. ] Also, this is a bakery. So. Come buy baked goods. [ super deadpan. ] Or come make baked goods. Especially if your name is Isaac Lahey.
[ Point to the screen. Point to his watch. You best come be on the clock, son. Aaand, that’s it. He’s cutting the feed there. ]
[[ ooc; fyi there’s likely to be threadjacks here and there so just put it in the header if you’d rather there not be /o/ ]]
[ Lincoln's reached over with one hand to turn the console on in the bakery that Astrid had owned on, while he's mid-sentence into shouting to the other side of the room, head still turned. ]
--Isn't the first rule they always tell you in grade school science classes that you don't eat in the lab? So you don't accidentally ingest cyanide or something?
[ A pause, and he mutters lowly. ] Christ, we're gonna have so many lawsuits. [ That's a super good way to advertise a business, Lincoln, good job. He opens his mouth to speak directly to the network, but is interrupted by a loud bark, expression dropping to a deadpan as he reaches down to pick up what looks like a blueberry muffin, shakes at something lower than the camera, and then lobs it across the room. You might see the bouncing tail of a golden retriever chasing after it in the background. ]
We know we can’t be the only ones here interested in looking into all of this on a scientific level. Has anyone done that already? Or, more so, has--
[ At this point a certain redhead can be seen in the background and she bends down to wrestle the remains of the muffin while yelling across the room at Lincoln, so the feed picks it up, though it’s quiet from how far away she is. ]
Lincoln! I thought I told you stop feeding Finley muffins! I know he can digest them just fine but they’re not good for him.
[ Lincoln’s mouth just sort of hangs open mid-sentence while a voice comes from somewhere off screen to chastise him, expression falling flat, and once the scolding is over, he just sort of mutters off the last part of it halfheartedly. ] ...anyone found the tools to do that-- Chugging coffee like you may as well be mainlining it isn’t good for you either!
[ Called out over his shoulder as the bouncing fluff of golden retriever tail makes it’s way back to him, and Lincoln breaks off a piece of muffin next to him, puts a finger over his lips in a ‘shh’ motion, and sneaks him another bite. Good dog. ] I’m kind of trying to do something productive here, actually, Agent, so if you don’t mind, can we play the Deprive My Dog Of Good Things game later?
[ Olivia moves closer to the screen until she’s right behind him and leans her arm on his head, pushing him forward and down so she can lean in over him and get her face in view of the camera. There’s a grin on her face and she pats Lincoln’s bowed head sort of patronizingly. ]
Someone talk some sense into him? He’s going to make that dog fat. Happy, but extremely fat. But, speaking of productivity, we could do with some lab equipment. We’ve got space here we’d like to use, but it doesn’t have the equipment Walter needs. We’d really appreciate any help, whether it be equipment or advice on where to look for stuff. Thanks.
[ By the end she has a fairly professional smile and attitude, even though she’s still totally leaning on Lincoln. What bad friend and colleague. Just the picture of professionalism there. ]
[ And Lincoln just sort of lets this happen, because this is basically his life right here. He’s totally the high ranking officer, can you tell. But there’s a hint of a half-smile on his lips despite the eyeroll and the way he glances up to her to talk, tone more of a quiet thing between the two of them. ] If Broyles were here, we’d be fired, you know that, right? Like double fired. Triple fired, and he’d make us clean his car with tooth brushes.
[ Clearing his throat, he makes some attempt at actually looking like a Department of Defence employee and straightens up, causing Liv to have to flop back. ] On that note, if anyone has an expertise in physics, biochemistry, or any sort of scientific field that has done any researched on Tu Vishan, we’d like to share notes.
[ And with a casual glance down to the muffin he’d given a bit to Finley off of, Lincoln lets out a huff, and seems almost pained to be mentioning this next part. Omfg why is Astrid not here, he wasn’t supposed to be Fringe Team Baked Goods spokesperson. ] Also, this is a bakery. So. Come buy baked goods. [ super deadpan. ] Or come make baked goods. Especially if your name is Isaac Lahey.
[ Point to the screen. Point to his watch. You best come be on the clock, son. Aaand, that’s it. He’s cutting the feed there. ]
[[ ooc; fyi there’s likely to be threadjacks here and there so just put it in the header if you’d rather there not be /o/ ]]
no subject
The fact that you were extracted only a minute apart is very intriguing though. You are proof positive that our native universe will not, at the very least, immediately unravel when someone is displaced. That is comforting to confirm. It may also suggest that whisking someone away from their native universe to this one may only be possible within a narrow temporal window of opportunity...
Are you sure you won't agree to some experiments? I am thinking, first thing, an experiment measuring your and Captain Lee's harmonic resonance frequencies and comparing them to mine. I can recall the frequency differences - in an untouched status quo ante state - between our two universes, so comparing the results here after our transmigration could be extremely productive!
[He already misses his Agent Dunham. He could always talk her into a harmless, well, mostly harmless experiment if the stakes were high enough like this!]