[IC Inbox | Meadowlark]

[lifetothefullest]

@lance.sweets | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[nonscriptum]

[ As an extremely visual learner Nate would also appreciate a decent whiteboard, but he isn't lingering on the woes of living in an exclusively digital age with paper in his lap, thumbing the worn leather of the moleskine he carried across half the world he left behind.

It could be as simple as that: one gate for each major city, activated once the first four were activated, like some kind of ignition switch. Ian also brings up the point that's bothered Nate since his last recreational visit to the gates - they're huge, and imposing, but not entirely otherworldly. There are stylistic conventions that attach them to this place, to their cultural norms.

Or their cultural norms were inspired by the gates themselves. Which is the chicken, and which is the egg? ]

That would be...a lot of life forms.

[ Nate points out, whistling lowly. ]

But why do they have to be "awakened" in the first place? Are they asleep or just not present? Like they need to be summoned or something, John Dee style.

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance is also all about this whiteboard idea; he can handle all this digital-only stuff okay, but he'd much rather have something tactile, so he'll definitely keep this in mind.

But for now, he can only focus on one thing at a time, especially since he remembers he has a drink and begins sipping it again.]

Aren't there like, five billion humans around currently? A hundred is a small number when it comes to 'lifeforms'.

[He isn't super invested in this particular theory, but he does feel like he should point that out.

But as for the question--]

No idea. Even after everything I've been looking into, it still feels like a lot of this doesn't fit together or is very vague. Like we're missing something really important about how it actually works.

[Which is frustrating, to say the least.]

[wittingly]

( He's quiet for a second. Contemplative. The trip to the trench killed all but one of its members; if that's what brought them here... nothing good ever came from ritualistic sacrifice. He's assuming that's what happened, and it really feels that way.

His fingers tap his cup to the rhythm of the lyrics of a song rather than the beat itself. )

Wellp.

( Declared mildly and abruptly. )

Guess we're going to the moon or the Mariana trench. Either way we're building a suit.

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate, so caught up in the possibility of going to the moon and potentially getting to shake some information out of Henries, looks mildly confused for a split-second before it hits him. Pressure. No gravity. Lack of oxygen. ]

...wow, I am really glad you're here, because I hadn't even thought of that part.

[ Shocking no one. ]

Space can't be that much different from scuba diving, right?

[lifetothefullest]

[Okay, give Lance a moment to consider that response from Nate, then knock back the rest of his glass of mostly-tequila. Terrible mistake, he's going to feel that very soon, but for now it's the only real appropriate response.]

The pressure issues are completely opposite, and there's radiation in space.

[Not that Lance is that sort of scientist, but those are two major differences coming to mind.]

[wittingly]

That's the total opposite--

( He starts up at the same time as Lance, and falls off quickly with an emphatic gesture at him. That, exactly.

There's a slow incredulous shake to his head, and then he points at Nate with his cup. )

You are officially not allowed to be in charge of Operation Moonbase.

[nonscriptum]

[ Woof, the immediate response that garners is sharp enough to feel like a little bit of a slap in the face. A suit still seems too 'worst case scenario,' when the likelier option is that the gate is in a safe, stable place, ready for their arrival. All they have to do is think it. ]

Jesus, okay. I didn't mean scientifically, I meant thematically.

[ A little defensively, into the cup he's finally picked up once more: ]

When's the last time either of you calculated your air intake for a limited-time endeavor in an environment designed to kill you?

[lifetothefullest]

[He's still not drunk enough not to catch the tone shift, and his frustration with everything going on and people rushing into things clearly came across much more pointedly than he'd really meant it to when it comes to this situation. So backing up a moment, trying to focus well enough to say something that'll help without being more direct than called for--]

I try not to go into environments designed to kill me, just in general; that's definitely your area of expertise. I'm just here to bring up and worry about everything that can go wrong.

[wittingly]

Last week.

( Short pause, and a gently humored follow-up; )

Yeah, I'm lying. The point is we're gonna have to be really careful with whatever we decide to do here. Best case scenario the hypothetical gates, which may or may not exist, lead to an environmentally sealed facility. Worst case scenario it's straight out into the open, in which case you're dead almost instantly. The mariana trench is like sixteen thousand PSI. For a frame of reference, a house is about fourteen. The moon's slightly better. If you hold your breath your lungs'll explode. If you don't, it's just the rest of the oxygen in your body that'll make you expand to twice your size, but at least your skin'll keep it all inside like a water balloon. You pass out in about fifteen seconds and you're dead in ninety, max.

( Not because he doesn't know Nate is smart. He really, really does. It's just his constant fear over the theme of protagonist syndrome that permeates through the displaced. Nate's definitely on the better end of the spectrum, but he's still branded action hero in Ian's mind. Outlining the gory details will hopefully hammer in how overly cautious they actually need to be. Being aggressively careful is what kept him alive in the early days of the apocalypse, before they made their safe haven in Crater Lake. )

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate doesn't want to throw down that he understands pressure per square inch, he's a diver for Chrissakes, because he knows Ian is only trying to be methodical and thorough. Practical, rather than a buzzkill. So he takes the information as the advice it's intended to be, rather than a personal commentary on his potential ignorance, and laces his fingers together between his knees. ]

Okay, so, death by oxygen narcosis in a vacuum sounds bad.

[ Conversational and light, because he's attempting to look for contingencies to avoid the rigors and testing periods of developing a freaking space suit. ]

Alternatively, I can try to call in a favor with Morningstar. Gaby said I should go to El if I've got any ideas I want to see realized.

[lifetothefullest]

[Even though the tequila is really kicking in at this point, it's not enough to dampen the need to just stare at Ian in a mix of fascination and horror at that description. Seriously, gross, and he's seen a lot of weird ways people can die but still, gross.

He swivels the look for horror toward Nate at that last suggestion, though now it's more purposefully affected as a show of displeasure with the idea as he comments--]

If you mean about the suit, then just as long as you don't let them know I'm involved; I'm sure me dying on the moon would solve some problems for them.

[He's making a bitterly morbid joke, not actually believing that--or, well, not believing that they'd do anything like that even if the sentiment is probably accurate--but whatever.]

But if you mean about getting to the moon some other way, it wouldn't hurt to know our options.

[wittingly]

( Forgive him, Nate. Launching into informative offshoots of lectures is just a personality thing and not a commentary on his opinion of the person he's talking to. You can take the boy out of teaching but you can't take teaching out of the boy.

Lance's offhanded commentary about moon-dying is not funny, it's really not, but the tequila's hitting him, too. It draws out a quick, unstifled snort from him that he tries to burry in his cup a second too late.

He clears his throat, still just a touch too much amusement in his expression when he joins them on Plan B. )

Yeah, I think maybe going through an organization for an official means of travel is probably our best bet. But, I'm--

( Framing, Fowler. Find a nice way to put it — nope, filter's a little too slow. )

They fucking hate you guys, though. I mean, sorry- maybe not you, for some reason your face is like an anti-hate forcefield—

( A kindly gesture at Nate with his cup. )

But they definitely hate you.

( Sorry, Lance. )

So I'd really like to be there to see the expression on her face when you guys ask her for a moon ticket.

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate quirks a delighted little smile at anti-hate force field in spite of the fact that he knows that's an inaccurate and biased assessment. In some parts of the world and in some small communities, his face instills a vicious, kneejerk sentiment of "I'd like to kill that fucking guy."

Admittedly, his first run-in with actual representatives of Morningstar was not good. It served as a pretty shitty impression if he's being honest, but he reached out to Gaby. Talked it out. ]

Won't know until I try.

[ Nate shrugs, because it's not like there's anything to lose in doing so. ]

Worse case scenario, they've got me on the hook for a future favor.

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance offers a shrug at Ian's affirmation of his status with Morningstar, and doesn't argue about Nate; it is pretty difficult to hate Nate, after all, and with good reason. Besides, although Lance doesn't regret his choices to push boundaries, there's no need for other people to get into trouble with anyone they don't have to.

He concentrates on pouring himself another drink--less tequila this time--and then settles back into his chair again.]

Don't owe them too much of a favor.

[Not that 'favors' are exactly binding contracts, but still.]

[wittingly]

( Ian tips his head to one side like a concession. He's been an advocate of Morningstar openly, because for all of the potential for harm he genuinely believes the good they do outweighs it. The organization as a whole is admirable. The local chapter's population... he has his reservations. It's not even that he disagrees with their stance (or sentiment, at least) on most things, it's just that their approach leaves a lot to be desired.

That's the long winded way of saying he won't outright talk shit here, but yeah, he's very aware of the berth of material for it. )

Lemme know how it goes. I'm officially invested in Operation Moonscapade.

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate would argue that he's owed worse favors than whatever they could possibly come up with, but then, that seems like it might be testing fate in the same way that at least it's not raining tends to immediately summon inclement weather. ]

I'll keep you posted.

[ Which is the best he can do for the time being. That said, with more tequila under his belt and unburdened by the opportunity he was gifted to word-vomit his theories all over pleasant company, Nate too is more loose-lipped than usual. Their location struck him as odd from the start, but now that he has a chance to remark on it- ]

So...is there a reason we're at this hotel instead of your apartment?

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance nods his agreement about Operation Moonscapade, even if he would've called it Operation Moonbase Alpha, but then Nate asks his question and uuuuugh.

Lance slides down sideways in his chair until he can fling a leg over the arm of it, and he would cross his arms and sulk if he weren't holding a drink. But he doesn't even consider trying to avoid explaining, so after a moment--]

Kyna and I had a disagreement.

[...And no elaboration is forthcoming yet.]

[wittingly]

( He's had enough to drink at this point that instead of flat frustration, Lance's explanation only earns a quiet, absurd chuckle. Half because of the sudden Bisexual Energy posture he's taking up, half because—

He raises his cup. )

There's a lot of that going around these days.

[nonscriptum]

[ The abrupt shift in posture to a petulant laziness would make him laugh if Lance didn't look so sour and it's the tacit acknowledgement from Ian that has him wondering what the Hell he managed to miss out on by avoiding the network as much as he usually does.

For a long moment he looks between them and their piece of performance art - Frustration in Repose - and finally opens his mouth. ]

...Guys, as much as I'm enjoying the face journeys, I really can't read minds. Whatever secret conversation you're having, I'm not on the same channel.

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance gives Ian a flat look for the chuckle, though he isn't really annoyed; he can understand the sentiment easily enough, even before his comment.

But Nate is left in the dark, and Lance sighs quietly and tries to figure out how to explain. It feels... Stupid, when he attempts to put it in words, and he isn't sure exactly how to explain, but eventually--]

How many of the conversations on Hawke's post did you read?

[He's just trying to gauge if he needs to go into that before getting into the conversation itself.]

[wittingly]

If you haven't already read it, you may wanna spare yourself.

( Volunteered in a slow drawl. His eyes flicker up to the ceiling - stuck partway through a roll, but mostly so he can replay the entire affair again in his head.

For the fifteenth time. )

[nonscriptum]

Most of them.

[ Nate admits with a grimace, because while he rarely engages in that kind of discourse - for good reason, just look at what went down in that nightmare of a post - he does like to keep abreast of the more contentious happenings. Partly to have some idea of what's going on, partly to make himself aware of who he should and should not engage in conversation.

He's learned from Hadriel. ]

I think "painful" is an understatement.

[lifetothefullest]

[Definitely an understatement, but at least Nate knows the context. So now he supposes he really does have to figure out how to explain, and he doesn't want to go too deeply into it for various reasons.

But for a basic idea--]

After I went to go play poker with you, Kyna asked if I was coming back, and I told her I was. When I got there, she asked me what was wrong, so I tried to explain that it was... Upsetting that she was content to completely ignore everything that was being said about and to Ian and I, but I don't think she quite understood.

[It's... Not entirely the truth, as he's abbreviating some things, but he still thinks it's fair enough. He doesn't know if he wants to go into what set him off at the end, and it was a part of the overall issue anyway, so he'll just avoid it for now.]

[wittingly]

( Most of the humor slips away by the time Lance is partway through his explanation, a quiet unhappiness settling somewhere around his mouth. Technically speaking, they resolved their issue — at least in the sense that they dropped the subject and he's pretending it never happened.

But.

Yeah, he still feels a rock of discontent somewhere in him over it. Over how it ended, and how it really didn't feel like she... got it.

His expectations were too high, he knows better now.

He suddenly seems very interested in his drink, and drinking it. No comment. The silence is probably telling enough anyway. )

[nonscriptum]

Ah.

[ Nate doesn't generally consider himself to be a perceptive person when it comes to others as opposed to his extremely niche special interests, but it's difficult not to notice the palpable shift in body language and the way that Lance makes a concerted effort to communicate himself.

He might have assumed there would be some kind of talk among them after the fact, a discussion about respective stances, arguments made, defenses put forth.

Guess it went over like a lead balloon. ]

...well, uh. I can't exactly speak to Kyna's motives because I barely know her, but if one of my close friends pulled the same crap I'd be pretty pissed off.