Multiple Settings Jumpers | Main IC

[Jet]

London 2082
1,000 Meters above the city
Time | 1:45pm March 3rd

​

The room was barren steel, gunmetal grey with a lone desk at the head. Seat nor table filled the void, the only features being two vault doors; one behind the applicants and the other it's opposite behind the desk. The build set a sterile air, Ronavirus-free and lit to match with factory fluorescents beaming harsh. Far from inspiring indeed, failing to ease thoughts like -- "Will I make it?" and "Please god I need this money for drinks" mulled by many and spoken by a few brave souls. Most stood silent though, milling about as the farside door cracked, revealing the bearer of news both good and bad.

​

"Quiet please! You're not hitting the bars so stop fraternizing will you?" he'd bark immediately, nasal-tone rich with impotent anger as he plopped to desk chair. It was an awful open, causing unease as he blitzed logins to reach the list of those selected by The Committee. Who they'd take was anyone's guess, even his; the obvious pick wasn't always and the group knew it. The testing here was simple like quantum physics; basic but incredibly complex. With questions ranging from best tea types to advanced math, nothing was off limits and the background check looked for hobbies as much as job history. Word had spread of that unpredictability and not a sane soul would be sure of selection as the admin cleared his throat, fingers coming to rest with the list at his front.

"Listen for your name and team number please. If you're called head through the door behind me and follow the signs, got it? And no, if you're not called it's not because I forgot you, so don't ask me!" Short-Round explained, and flustered without reason he'd begin listing the accepted in a toxic, petulant tone.

Team 1 Lounge
​

Its not a second home, it's also not inhuman like the last room. Somewhere between the lounge exists with gunmetal balanced by soft lighting; given life with couches and fusball, a bookshelf and TV; even a kitchenette with coffee and tea brewed waiting. It was a nice hangout for the accepted few who'd endured testing, at this point a break was in order for everyone - including a staff member.

​

He'd made himself at home with feet kicked up and Football on the TV, waiting for the group. As the first few arrived he'd look over with a smirked, thick scottish -- "Met Francis did-ya? The little twat. Had him brew for you lads" laughing as he sprang up with gusto, adding chipper "Damn intern, wee bit of a nonce but he's my son so we keep him about. I'll be back in a few with a list of enhancements and gear but till then have a drink or two, beers in the fridge if you're sport" explained thorough with a nod, walking from the room.

Prologue
​

This period of the RP is canon but takes place before the true start of the RP. Hang out, get to know each other, make enemies, the usual. Once the old fellow returns your character will choose their enhancements and go to enhancement surgery. Enhancement surgery at this point is like getting an oil change. Medical science can have you in and out in an hour with no recovery time. The enhancement limit is from your metabolism & nervous system being taxed by increased power or perception, not the act of putting enhancements into people.

 

[dae mec]

Maria smiled politely until the staffer left, and then she let her expression resume into the fiery, blank-faced intensity that could burn down walls. She knew they were offering a shit-ton of money for this. And hey, money was great. Maria needed that.

But what Maria was really focused on was tenure. This opportunity... oh, fucking yes. First-hand look at alternate timelines? Any historian would eat their left leg to literally see the what-ifs turn out. She would get herself that photographic memory, record everything in her brain and write a peer-reviewed research article. Maria was going to write a goddamn paradigm-shifting, Science-magazine worthy, Nobel-prize eating article, and then everyone was going to give her tenure.

And Oxford and the British government had been in bed since the 1000s. She'd submit through them after the whole fixing timeline thing to avoid breaking that bigass NDA. (And she could punch that universe-collapsing asshole in the face with superstrength. Historians everywhere, once they found out, would name her a hero.) Maria hadn't planned on actually getting tenure at Oxford, but after this, they'd have to be morons to toss her aside. And hey, she liked the city well enough. The UK was pretty nice, God save the fucking queen and all that. She'd switch her coffee habit for tea if she had to.

Speaking of which... Maria made the journey to the coffee pot while mentally shifting around all the tasks she'd have to do. (No need to send out any more CVs, but she could reach out to some old professors about collaborating on the potential article. Send out feelers for possible peer-reviewers, make careful noises to Oxford's admin about this breakthrough...)

Maria poured herself a cup and wondered if she'd get away with keeping the whole pot to herself. Well, only one way to find out. She turned and smiled at her fellow loungers.

"Hey, anyone want a cup? I'm Maria, by the way."

 

[iaso]

Adella really, truly did not want to be here. She was still considering working out an escape plan so she could not be here. But when the FBI shows up at your door and tell you that you can either come with them or face the rest of your life in jail for stealing from idiots who don't understand how the internet works, well. Here she was.

She would make the most of it.

Settled in a corner of the lounge, far away from all the hustle and bustle and people, Adella reached into her pocket and pulled out a palm-sized square and her headphone buds. She pressed her thumb onto the middle of the square and with a mechanical whir, it unfolded into a small laptop. It wouldn't pack much firepower, but it could get the job done for now.

She stuck the buds in her ears and surfed through her Spotify work playlists. Techno? Too relevant. Weeb shit? Meh, not the mood. Dolly Parton? Adella considered. Yeah, she could go for some country. She hit play and the music began to blast. Perfect.

She might have been stuck here, but that was no excuse to let her network slack--she had five animators and three distributors to keep up with. They got paid either way; she wasn't going to hand them money for slacking.

In the corner of her eye, Adella caught sight of one of the other poor fucks trapped here turned towards the group, mouth open, and Adella pulled out one of her earbuds.

"--want a cup? I'm Maria, by the way."

Adella raised an eyebrow. "They got anything but coffee back there?"

 

[Togy]

Meanwhile, several room away in the introductory room, Frie was asleep. Silently snoring, Frie was peacefully laid out on an uncomfortable steel bench. Yes, he had fallen asleep the second he got there, and no, don't judge him. He only got 9 hours of sleep last night. He was peaceful, he was zen. This was the perfect state of being in his mind, he just disregarded the fact that the steel of the bench was slowly flattening his spine. Everything was perfect.

Then everything was gone. Was he flying? Holy shit, he was flying! He didn't know what to make of-oh, wait, no, he was falling.

With a resounding crack, Frie's head slammed against the tiled floor as they were pulled off by one of the scientists.

And just like that, the floodgate was open. "Du Arschloch! Du Arschloch! Ich wette, deine Mutter war ein Meerschweinchen und dein Vater roch nach Holunderbeeren, du Stück Scheiße!" Frie yelled, sending out cuss after cuss in German. Still cursing, the enraged German climbed to their feet, asking "Was zum Teufel?".

"Du Hast-"

"I speak English you Arschloch" Frie spat, getting up.

"Alright, you've been asleep for the past half hour" They said, going over to their desk.

"You couldn't have tried a nicer way of waking me up?" Frie grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I did try. For 15 minutes! If cracking your head against the floor hadn't worked, then I was half tempted to whip out a tazer!" The scientist retorted, sitting at their desk. "Just go to the team 1 lounge already" They said, waving him off.

"Where?"

"Somewhere down the hall"

"Specific, thanks"

And with that, Frie set off.

-5 minutes later-​

After about 5 minutes of walking into the wrong room, Frie stumbled into the team 1 lounge, bleary eyed and rubbing head. Hearing the mentio of coffee, Frie's head whipped towards Maria. They had coffee? Oh thank god. He hadn't had coffee in like 3 hours. There had to be blood in his coffee stream at this point. Not speaking, because who hell has time for that, Frie stumbled past Maria to the small kitchenette and began to pour himself coffee. After the first cup was filled, he filled the second cup. He had half the mind to pour himself a third.

Taking one cup in each hand, Frie surveyed the room for a prime napping spot as he chugged down his first cup. In less than 30 seconds, the steaming brown liquid was gone. Yawning, Frie leaned against the wall at the back of the kitchenette. Eh, good a place as any he guessed.

 

[Jet]

Nora Jay

​

Rules shmules, all meant to be broken as Nora did with earbuds blasting on the lobby-lounge walk. No way the synth-string rock binge would stop now, especially not now -- uhuh nope not today chief. If anyone asked the answer would be a polite version of "kick rocks" because this was celebration time and by the gods music would flow; drinks too if they were lucky because this was exciting beyond belief. Nora's heart pounded with anticipation because the job was important and adventurous, secretive and global! The universe had some "instability" they'd said, traveling through realities they'd sold! A dream job on her doorstep because of a tiny mutation in her birth files! The luck of that alone was immense, but then passing the test? Did she have a guardian angel? Probably so because what a weird-ass test it was. With mind numbingly simple and inversely complex questions she'd guessed or held a laugh half the time. Whoever wrote "Whats your favorite dinosaur" owed her the week of life she'd lost holding a cackle. What a sick joke but apparently she'd aced it and there she was, waking behind fellow picks.

One fast-walk layer and Nora stood surprised at the homely lounge. It had brewed tea and coffee, a TV with European Football, Fusball, a stocked bookshelf, cozy couches. It was almost like -- not a chance -- was it a staffer's man cave? Whatever..... pulling up to the kitchenette she'd ignore the health option of tea, the slightly less health option of coffee and the neutral choice of drinking air. None would suffice because this was a day worth celebrating! So reaching to the fridge she'd open it soft with prying eye, looking for -- "Perfect!" she'd think abrupt, pulling an ice cold beer from a shelf. Not the alcoholic (well not much of one) she'd be staying sober on the job but a Heineken wouldn't kill her; 4% ABV was water.

Cracking the can Nora'd take a sip, removing her buzzing earbuds with a quick smile. She felt good and looking over the group she'd toast Adella's way, answering her question. Hopefully it'd pick her mood up because she looked so super enthused. Same to the man called before her; funny guy'd been sleeping on some straight slacker shit. He looked to need extra rest; tough for him this didn't seem the job to find that. At least the third looked happy to be here, with a good vibe about her as she worked through a coffee.

To be honest, at first glance the group didn't look elite and Nora clenched her jaw. She wondered what qualified them, hell what qualified her? No matter, the testing had to be graded by something real... right? Either way it was pointless worry and taking mind from it she'd look around at the others with a 'cheers' gesture and a "Here's to a kick ass job and a lot of money! Anyone have plans with what to do after it's over? I bet you....." she'd ponder amused, smiling at Frie with "Could use a new bed right? And you...." continued with eyes at Adella joking "A drink maybe?" taking a second as she leaned back on counter top, looking to Maria. Unlike the other two there weren't quick quips to make; she looked content so Jay'd settle to compliment "Maybe one of those hats for me? It's sick!"

Togy iaso dae mec

 

[dae mec]

Maria glanced at the girl who'd asked for something stronger. She looked like the kind of student who'd sit in the back of the lecture hall with headphones plugged in and anime on full-screen. (Maria couldn't really see the screen of the girl's pocket laptop, but it looked vaguely anime-ish. Maybe it was that new reboot... Narubleach Piece? She didn't know much about anime.) Was she even old enough to drink? Then again, this was the U.K. Even toddlers had a bit of beer.

Maria opened her mouth to repeat what the staffer had said about the fridge—but a rumpled man barged in, grabbed the pot from her, poured two cups, and collapsed in the corner of the kitchenette. She stared at him with a mix of outrage and grudging respect. First: that was her coffee, and how dare he guzzle it down before her? Second: the speed he devoured it was... rather impressive.

"You're welcome," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at the man. Maria took a long, deliberate sip of her coffee and sent judgemental vibes his way.

Then another girl walked in, cheerful enough to make up for the depression saturating the room. She also answered latop-girl's question by opening the fridge door and pulling out a beer—throwing a few comments towards each of them. (And how old was she? Both girls looked like they'd be right at home in one of her undergrad classes.) Interesting that she was also an American.

"Thanks," said Maria, brightening at the compliment about her cap. "I wouldn't mind sharing my supplier," she joked. It was one of her more formal ones, not quite a beanie, vaguely page-boy-ish. She'd dressed up a little for the interview, going for slacks and a button down.

Which... apparently the others (sleeping man and laptop-girl) hadn't shared. Damn it, could Maria just have strolled in with her usual jacket/t-shirt combo?

"So, what are all your specialties?" Maria addressed the group (but mostly the new girl, who seemed somewhat more alive than the sleeping man or the anime girl). Hopefully there was some sense of team cohesion with the selection. "I have a Ph.D. in 2000s social history, a few sub-specialties in other areas." She waved a vague hand. "Bet I'll be the near-history expert, or something like that."

 

[Togy]

Sliding down the wall he was leaning against, Frie managed to chug down a load of caffeine in seconds without feeling any sort of energy boost whatsoever. Setting the cups down beside him, because he couldn't be bothered to walk over to the counter, Frie rested his head against the wall. Closing his eyes, Frie tried to go to sleep.

Seconds later, Frie felt like he'd been adressed. That wasn't right. Who the hell wants to talk with him? Cracking open an eye, Frie stared at Nora. Were they smiling? Weird. What did they ask him? Why everyone was here or something?

Frie had to admit, he'd only come here to get off work for a week.

The money was a plus, but Frie really just didn't feel like going to work. At work he had to talk with people and actually do something, so basically a personal hell. He'd been caught sleeping under desks one too many times as well, so he couldn't even take a nap without getting fired.

Wait, did someone else just talk to him? He thought he just heard someone say "You're welcome" sarcastically. Two people have talked to him in 5 minutes, this wasn't good. He was really not feeling up for a convo today, or pretty much any day. He needed to cut off the head of the snake as soon as he could. Wait, he had an idea.

Squinting at the two women in the kitchenette, Frie said "ich spreche kein Englisch". Hoping no one else would speak to him, Frie rested the back of his head against the wall.

 

[Widget]

Em sat perched on the end of his bed, his legs tucked securely under the bolted-down bed-frame, and an over-sized, large print novel "borrowed" from the Boston Public Library spread open upon his lap. He felt a twinge of guilt as he imagined the disappointed gazes of librarians permanently relieved of the book, but Kiera had suggested that he tried some "light fiction reading", and he had neither the arsenal or funds to fulfill that particular request without resorting to book-knapping. Pushing up his glasses up to rest at his hairline like a pair of shades, Em thumbed through the pages to middle of the book (foresight never hurt anyone), and skimmed the top lines:

"I have learned that, in fact, not everyone who reaches back into history can survive it. And it is not only reaching back that endangers us; sometimes history itself reaches inexorably forward for us..." -- The Historian, Elizabeth Kostava

"Nope," Em exclaimed to himself (or to the book, or to the whole damn universe) and slammed the book shut before tossing it to the other side. He was not one to believe in omens, but also wasn't a huge fan of receiving ominous warnings from unnervingly convincing vampire books right before completely undermining the rules of time itself.

Resting his chin on cupped hands -- and thanking the higher powers he didn't believe in that there was no one there to chastise him for touching his face (take that COVID-19) -- Em glanced up at the tiny mirror affixed to the rectangular wardrobe in front of him. He raised a hand to trace the newly formed lines on his face. It seemed like there were more of them every day, and he was abruptly reminded of Alex, four years his junior, leaning behind his shoulders and gently teasing him -- "What am I supposed to say when the grocery store lady asks me for my dad's number?" Em had scrunched up his face. "That would be a weird-ass thing to ask someone's son." Alex's laughter rang in his ears.

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Em abruptly stood up, rubbed his eyes, and pushed his glasses back down, almost sending them flying into the wall in the process. This. This was not healthy. Imagining prophesies in books was not healthy. Thinking about the past was certainly not healthy, and goddammit he was not going to lose the job he had held onto and dedicated countless hours pouring over shitty dissertations for the majority of his adult life. Granted, if he managed to get eaten by a Pterodactyl in prehistoric times that was kind of a moot point (dinosaurs were definitely on his mind following that utterly incoherent test.) And, a small part of Em insisted, there was always the possibility that they go back in a verse identical to this one... He stopped himself there and shook his head. Not going there. But then, why did you accept this job?

Casting those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and readied himself. The others should be convening in the lounge, and he had yet to catch even the slightest of glimpses of them. Having completed the tests a day earlier, he had essentially quarantined himself in his room, half to keep out of the way and half because his capacity for human interaction was running low. It seemed like his time to pretend he was an over-sized hobbit was coming to end.

Passing through the halls, Em was astonished by the vastness and sterile cleanliness of it all. He vaguely wondered whether that would be maintained throughout the duration of their time here, or if he was witnessing a temporary phenomenon meant to impress and intimidate them all. When he reached the lounge, he was taken aback by the scene before him. A rather rustled-looking, blond man was leaned against the wall, looking like he was about to perform the magnificent feat of passing out on his feet. He turned his eyes to the three women in the room, gazing at them quizzically.

"Uh, hello," He paused briefly, "I'm sorry, I think I must be in the wrong lounge."

 

[BlossomingRosebud]

Dorothea Lupei was almost sure that she had actually gone crazy this time. Roughly half the people in her life thought the same. This was weird; this was legit dangerous; this was probably a host of other things.

Whelp, too late to worry about that now!

Dory settled into the couch, grinning to herself and all the brain cells she had left. She was absolutely ready for this. This was a one in a lifetime chance, and dang, it paid so much money. It kind of brought back the child in her, in a way, reminding her of the days when she dreamed of going to Mars with that starry look in her eyes. It was something adventurous, something different. And did she mention it paid a lot of money?

But seriously though, she was just glad to get away from her job for a while. It had got really dull lately, her managers were annoing, and frankly, she was tired of people yapping at her all the time. At least now people could yap at her for different reasons. How was this job going to work, anyways? Was it a 'find this watcha-ma-whosit in 24 hours or we'll banish you to the prehistoric realm' kind of deal or would it be more 'we'll get there when we get there' kind of pace? Because, apparently, this was some serious 'fix time and space before it unravels' kind of deal, but they didn't have details. Dory didn't know how serious it really was, but she guessed they would find out soon enough. She just hoped the people she would be working with wouldn't be horrible. But hey, if all else fails, at least it pays well.

"Specialties?" Dorothea echoed in response to Maria's question. Hmm, history expert, huh? Dory guessed that sounded useful. But she had no idea what the heck 'social history' was supposed to be. Granted, if the 2000s history in question didn't pertain to a scale replica of an F-16 fighter jet, she probably didn't know a thing about it anyways.

"Well, mine would be in making overpriced cough drops," she responded with a self-deprecating smirk. But no, really, what did she do that was useful? "Ha, but no, I'm a medical researcher. Deal Verde Pharmaceuticals (not that you've ever heard of it). So...I guess I'm a chemist, kind of. And a physiologist. I've never done forensics before but if one of you die I'll give it my best shot," she ended with a good-natured laugh, just as some guy came in through the door to the lounge and looked at them all as if confused.

"Err, what makes you think you're in the wrong one?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because if there is a problem, don't ask me; I have no idea what's going on."

 

[HayLin]

Was it left-right-right-left or right-left-left-right?

Khione walked leisurely around to look for the lounge. One foot over the other, hands behind her back and whistling to the tune of Greensleeves. The guy with the nasal voice said to go immediately to Team 1 Lounge after I did my business. Jeez, he sure is grumpy! But where the heck was the lounge? Nasal guy didn't exactly tell her the directions to the lounge, just the way to the bathroom. "Look for the door that has the number 1 written on it." he said. Suuuure, that was easy. There were lots of doors!

"...I have no idea what's going on." Khione pricked up her ears and followed the sound of the voice. Was someone lost like her as well? Maybe they could find the lounge together. Ohh a potential friend! She could use a friend in this crazy adventure. Her twin didn't want her to take on this job because yeah it was a little too crazy even for them but in the end her brother trusted Khione. He knew his sister had what it takes to survive the crazy job.

Her boots muted on the carpet floor, she rubbed her hands together and decided to creep quietly around the corner and surprise the other girl.

"Greetings, earthling!" She yelled at the top of her lungs as she jumped out of her corner to where she heard the voice. She made a peace sign and winked at the woman before her eyes. She probably should've pricked up her ears more, because if she did then she'd know that there were other people in the area, and she had in fact now found the lounge.

 

[iaso]

Adella watched the group of misfits in front of her fumble their way through introductions and questions and decided that no, she did not want any part of this. She shoved her earbuds right back into her ears. She was here to do a job, not make friends.

Maria, at least, seemed to have her shit together. But the blonde dude had instantly conked out, which she supposed was fair. That weird soldier chick looked far too military for Adella's taste. Glasses dude was clearly lost. Should-have-made-crack-but-instead-makes-legal-shit had about twice as much more energy than Adella wanted to deal with, and whoever the fuck just marched into the room has like, a solid ten times as much. She was pretty sure this entire shebang is going to go sideways real quick, with a circus like this.

She sighed and held her laptop in one hand like a waitress holds a tray of food and marched off towards the kitchenette. She stepped over blondie, rolling her eyes, and dug around in the fridge. No energy drinks. Great. Alcohol wasn't her thing, either, so Adella took what was left in the coffee pot and headed back to her corner.

 

[Jet]

Nora Jay


​

"Hmm!" Nora thought murmured, wondering of specialties and drawing a blank. Jay was a Jack with little bits of a lot with nothing concrete — except blasting. Small bodies could reach tight cracks in solar-mines and she'd been turned from greenhorn to master-blaster in six months. Hardly applicable to the day though, as if "blowing up rocks" had anything to do with adventure. Her time on illegal freight-train transit was more in line with the job then that, so deciding against specifics she'd answer Maria with a convincing "I've been solar-mining a few years, long deploys to the asteroid belt. Can blow up mountains and haul ass in a twenty year surplus shuttle, find deposits and how to not drift into space without a tether. Plus I got the full Indiana Jones collection — remastered edition. What else do you need for this job right?" with sarcasm punching the point. Nora knew she wasn't a fit and played to it with the dad-joke. She wasn't a security goon or expert historian, but she was happy to be there! Plus if they needed to explode a wall she'd be ace. Even the new girl seemed the better pick with experience in pharmaceuticals — that was like, a medical degree right? Physiology as well which was in the field. Seemed she could sorta-kinda do medical things which was a plus even if she wasn't the best of the best of the best. Nora could see her being the "team mom" too. It happened often with the eldest being the de-facto shaman; Jay could see it in her future like a prophet. That with her relevant abilities made her seem the great fit, unlike Nora!

Fuck it!

Motto of the day would be "Maybe I'm not the best but I'm also not the absolute worst, mediocre is better than fired!" A good line to toe, and moving from what she didn't have, Jay shifted to Maria's supplier for what she could have later on.... AKA a hat — not degrees. Nora was serious and wanted to ask but words quick-stopped her. It was a surprisingly loud "GREETINGS EARTHLINGS" shot over the crowd in a wild opening. The pure 180 from the (somewhat unenthused) vibe of the room was welcomed, someone bringing that energy was excellent. Nora wasn't the go-go-go cracked type but one in the mix was fun, and she'd joke back "Aliens? Didn't think we'd see any til' ancient Egypt!?" to bounce the energy back at the thin blonde.

Yes-yes, it was quite corny but it was a shot attempt at least. Cheap scoffs for some, maybe a trigger for others? Or perhaps one of the experts would remind the gap between proven theory and fringe conspiracy?

HayLin dae mec (spoke to)

BlossomingRosebud

 

[HayLin]

Not a great first impression, Khione berated herself in her head. She let her left hand that was in a peace sign dangle back down her side but continued to smile, making (trying) to make eye contact with everybody. She wasn’t easily flustered or the one who’d get shy because of a slip up.

She slid inside the room brushing past a tall guy with a scar on his lower lip ( Widget ), then some girl a few inches taller than her said “Aliens? Didn't think we'd see any til' ancient Egypt!?"

Glad for at least a response, unlike the other girl ( iaso ) with the laptop who’d just rolled her eyes at her as she passed, she saluted the one who replied to her ( Jet ) and said “Semper είμαστε ĉi tie. 你 märker bara inte 我們.” accompanied with hand movements (American Sign Language). Khione figured what she just did was much as she could do to pass for an alien, mashing up her languages including the visual language that uses hands. She always loved her the confused reaction of her classmates when she talked like that. She dropped her salute and said “It roughly means Always, we are here. You just don't notice us in a mix of langauges, accents, and grammar constructions.”

As she said that, the bookshelf at the side of the lounge caught her eye and she said in amazement "Mors omnibus!". As quick as she took an interest on one thing, a second later she'd go on to the next interesting thing. Khione switches her focus so fast she'd often leave others dumbfounded. She strode across the floor, scrounging her nose to the smell of coffee. Ugh! I hate coffee, Khione muttered to herself maybe loud enough for the girl in the kitchen to hear ( dae mec ). She got to the books and traced the spines of the books as she read the titles. Maybe there'd be books I like in here unlike the library where I work at. One title caught her eye. She buried her nose in the book and sat down on the other couch next to the woman she winked at ( BlossomingRosebud ).

She'd go on reading for a few minutes when she suddenly looked up from her book, a thought resurged in her mind: WAIT! Wasn't I just excited to befriend someone from these group of human beings? She furrowed her brows, looked questioningly at the guy leaning his head against the wall ( Togy ) as if he'd have the answers then thought Meh! Books first, interaction with organic beings later.