bigapplesauce | at least this isn't awkward [closed]

Current Location: ROMAC Base
Current Music: Monday, August 12th, 2013

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at least this isn't awkward [closed]

Iman adjusts her hijab as she rides silently down the elevator alongside her escort. She and Rush are nearing the end of their training process and she'll be happy to lose the bodyguard, as well as a lot of other perks. One thing she's not looking forward to, and that's Rush himself.

This is their first workday since the last congregational dream, which had gone so spectacular awry for them both. Their first time interacting. She doubts he's going to make a big deal out of it. She certainly doesn't plan to.

She's still angry, and she doesn't like feeling angry, it's a useless emotion in this instance. Rush is a colleague, not a friend. She knows the drema was as hard on him as it was on her, and furthermore that he isn't good with people the way she is. She asked too much of him. She knows that. It doesn't make it easier to bear, knowing that she's about to spend a day in a room with him, avidly not acknowledging what they went through two nights ago.

It is what it is.

Mercifully the elevator comes to its halt, and the escort leads her down the hall to their little classroom. They've upgraded to more useful projects now, at least, but it's still very much like school work. At least they're good at it.

Rush is already there when she gets in, and she acknowledges him with a faint nod before taking her seat. Normally this is where they'd start bantering up a storm and breaking rules but. Something tells her not today.

"Morning," she says in a tone that meets only the barest definition of polite.

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He hasn't spoken to Asadi since their unfortunate encounter in a too-claustrophobic dreamspace which had, as a natural tendency, chosen to bring out the very best in both of them. He has chosen not to devote any undue amount of thought to it; there is little to be done about it now, and he has worked with far less interesting people under far more disagreeable circumstances.

Asadi utters a verbal greeting that meets the bare minimum criteria of verbal and she receives an absent grunt in return. He has slept, infuriatingly and through no fault of his own, between then and now and as a consequence his focus is being more outrageously unmanageable than it has any right to be. He's distracted. He's busy. Asadi has no interest in greeting him. The contents of this Erlenmeyer are being obnoxiously difficult little fucks.

Gus remembers the handsome young man from a dream several months back, where they were each equipped with a complimentary talking animal. A baffling affair, not one he much cares to dwell on, but it is encouraging to see a familiar face. It was only a stroke of luck that he'd been in the office at all when Dr. Bashir had been brought in the past Saturday - he'd only been there briefly, gathering a few things to take home, but on seeing the man he'd decided to stay and process him.

A doctor - a medical one, but with knowledge far advanced to theirs, it seems - is not at all a bad thing to have. Gus had done his best to assure the young man he was in the right place, and that his talents would be put to good work. This is one he wants in his pocket, if he can manage it.

Which makes it a bit of gamble throwing him to the wolves, as it were. Rush and Asadi are incredibly untrustworthy, as has only become exponentially clear during their orientation process - no fireable offenses, and really, better to keep potential enemies under foot. Especially with such useful skillsets. He wonders if Bashir will be the missing link, something to ground the other two, or perhaps that he might come to act as a sort of insider. He seems refreshingly invested in guidelines, procedure, proper ways of doing things. It will be good, he thinks, to have a force for rationality in with the rowdy pair of geniuses.

He leads Bashir down the hall, having briefed him on what lies ahead - orientation and training, after which departmental placement will follow - and stops outside the laboratory door.

"I know our facilities are a bit - behind what you might be used to," he says, "but I hope you can make do."

He pushes the door open. "Dr. Rush, Ms. Asadi - may I introduce a new recruit. This is Dr. Julian Bashir."

Julian follows Mr. Fring down the hallway. He is still disoriented by all of this, by how fast everything is moving. Two days ago he arrives (a nice way of putting it, really) in some sort of alternate past universe, and now he has been scooped up, given a place to live and sleep, and... a job? Is that what this is? He doesn't quite understand what he is supposed to be doing, or who these two other people are that he will be joining. It's all very unnerving, and Julian can't shake the deep natural instinct that he should be spending his energy to find a way home. But from what little he already knows about the Rift, this seems unlikely. It's something he doesn't care to dwell on.

Which is why this is... good. A laboratory, equipment, research, maybe even a chance to do his job as a doctor. These are tangible things, familiar things. Things that in the past have always been counted on to help him keep focus, or distract him from things he didn't want to deal with. Data and tests and illnesses made some sort of sense, were at least problems he could begin to attempt to solve. Anything is better than sitting alone in his new quarters and thinking too long about who and what he's left behind, and the minuscule chances of ever seeing them again.

He had been taking in his surroundings when he is lead into a room already occupied by two people, though at first he is more distracted by the other things taking space up in the room. He feels his body relax almost immediately at the background hum or equipment. It's almost like being back on the station, that constant thrum threading just barely beneath perception. Not quite, but he'll take it.

"It is a pleasure," Julian says when he is introduced, turning to face Rush and Asadi with the wide, genuine smile of a person whose emotions always read clearly and unadulterated right there on their face for all to see. There is only a bit of hesitation there; Julian quite likes other people, but other people don't always seem like him very much. Or at least there seems to be a long, awkward period where people tend to learn to like him, or at the very least, learn to deal with his presence.

Iman is perfectly happy to work in cold silence with Rush, perfectly goddamn happy, this is not awkward at all because they are PROFESSIONALS.

Thank fuck Gus interrupts them.

Iman looks up, her expression blank and slack in the face of this perplexingly abrupt introduction - new recruit? What, is ROMAC skimping on its own training program now? But that is only a very, very short-lived series of potential issues because damn look at this one.

"Hey," she says, a little too intently. "Hi. I'm - Iman Asadi, you can call me Iman. The pleasure is mine." Okay girl, take it down a notch. Just, compared to the miserable, mostly-silent and begrudging workday she'd been anticipating, this is a hell of a welcome disruption. She is on board with this. Yes.

Someone new. Excellent. How perfect. Are elaborate introductions favored by ambiguous governmental programs? They seem extremely superfluous and and not at all time-efficient or remotely sensible, so Rush decides they must be.

He looks up from his Erlenmeyer to level an utterly uninterested stare at the newcomer and answer with a grunt that is vaguely construable as a greeting in the looser sense of the term. Their apparent fresh colleague seems almost overwhelmingly earnest and friendly and completely unable to conceal any emotional output whatsoever.

Ugh.

Naturally Asadi flocks to him immediately, whether out of genuine interest or some inane attempt to dig an increased furrow between them following their conflict of dream interest.

These are about the reactions Gus expected from both of them. He gives them all a wan smile and reaches out to pat Bashir on the back.

"He is new, but he is very adept," he assures them. "I am confident you'll be able to bring him up to speed in no time. I recognize this is a little bit unorthodox, but we train people for this department so rarely, that I think you would all benefit from working together. Is that all right?"

At an eager nod from Asadi and another unhelpful grunt from Rush, he gives Bashir another pat and turns to go. "Someone will check in on you later," he says. "Good luck."

A little bit throwing Bashir to the wolves, he knows, but that is what will make this interesting. And potentially worthwhile.

Mr. Fring walks out, leaving him feeling a bit out of sorts. Julian has the sense that he knows him from somewhere, but can't place how this could possibly be. It's only one more thing in this long line of strange bad luck he's had in the past two days. And now Julian's been led down to a strange laboratory, to work with strangers who clearly hadn't been warned that he was coming, and given a pat on the back that doesn't feel quite as reassuring as perhaps it's meant to. This all feels like a big test, somehow. And what happens if he fails? What if he has nothing to offer these people? What if his fate, his success here, rests on these two strangers? If they decide he's useless, what then? Supposedly he's still stuck here in this universe regardless.

Julian doesn't really let himself be thrown off by Rush's less than genial welcome, though. He knows what it's like to be interrupted while busy, and Rush seems like someone who takes their work seriously, or at the very least puts all his focus on whatever he's doing at the moment and not on outward distractions that may not be important. He hopes that the other man warms up to him eventually, but Julian's not concerned. HE smiles in Rush's general direction with a "Very nice to meet you!" and then he reaches out a hand instead to shake Iman's hand.

"Thank you, Iman," he says with another smile, this one just as genuine but maybe with more feeling behind it. He likes her already. "I hope I'm not too much of a bother. From what Mr. Fring tells me, you two have been here awhile already. I know it can be a terrible hassle to have someone come in when you've already been dedicated to your own research and don't want someone new messing up your data. But hopefully you'll find some use for me here!"

"Oh I'm sure we will," says Iman with a little smile, giving his hand a firm shake. "Not too much of a hassle, is it, Rush?" She doesn't wait for Rush to reply, or favor him a look (she knows what the answer will be anyway and nobody needs that), before barreling onward: "So a Doctor, huh? What field? What kind of work?" She hoists herself up to sit on the part of the table not being used by Rush, totally prepared to put off work so she can get to know the new kid a bit.

"If your definition of 'awhile' corresponds to 'six days,' then yes." He does not lift his eyes from his work as Bashir carries on. Asadi is welcome to him. "Yes, you would be correct." Though Asadi has notably been present within Manhattan for a longer amount of time, she only managed access to ROMAC's facilities the same time Rush himself did.

He cannot help but wonder, briefly, if this will mean Bashir will be more formally inducted into their more selective circle beyond work. The man looks very much incapable of keeping any sort of secret from his employers. Extending the effort to communicate a fair warning to Asadi may be prudent, but she has not been highly receptive of any sort of interaction with him and will likely continue to remain irritatingly aloof, so he very pointedly goes on studiously avoiding eye contact with the two of them. Rush was Asadi's newest colleague and confidant until he wasn't - though, granted, this was largely due to the mishap beyond their control - and now Bashir can be that replacement, so to speak. That suits him fine. He can live with it. He doesn't fucking care. In the slightest.

"Oh," Julian says to Rush, a bit surprised. "Sorry, Mr. Fring wasn't perhaps quite as... forthcoming about some information as he might have been. What exactly this place is or does, or what they want me to even do here in the future. But as they took me off the streets after being tansported to some strange alternate centuries past universe... the chance to do some research, touch some data, busy my mind was a chance I couldn't pass up."

"I was Cheif Medical Officer, so some surgery, some pediatrics, some emergency medicine, though mostly I worked day to day as a general practitioner," Julian tells Iman. "But this also meant having to be prepared to do medical procedures on unknown species and anatomy, or study unknown illnesses, viruses, bacteria. Came with the frontier medicine post, with all the unknowns in place. I did a lot of research on virology, microbiology, genetics on my own. I also have a little background in engineering, though I'm not sure that would come in handy much." He laughs. "Sorry, I sound like I'm at a job interview! I apologize. I'm half afraid that whomever runs this facility will decide that I'm not needed here and put me back out in 21st century New York to fend for myself. Which seems harder than I might have though. What about you two?" He asks with interest.

Edited 2015-02-19 01:49 (UTC)

Medical doctor wasn't exactly what she was expecting - odd choice, kind of, for Fring to toss him down here. None of their work pertains to the medical, at least not yet. Yikes. That doesn't exactly bode well. She'll have to keep an eye on Julian, make sure he's not swept up into some nefarious program for running weird experiments on people or something like that. She highly doubts a man of his obvious moral fiber would go in for that, but regardless.

"Dimensional physicist," she answers him briskly. "Some other stuff mixed up in there, but it's a long story. And don't worry about the proverbial whomever. We won't let them kick you to the curb." That's sort of a presumptuous 'we', she knows. Rush isn't protective of anything, so far as she can tell. All right, that's not fair. She's still bitter. But in any case, it's sort of a royal we. She's fine with being the one who protects the flock for now, as needed.

That is quite the list. Chief Medical Officer - a true specialist, then. Rush isn't wholly capable of concealing his interest. He halts in his work to rest his chin in an open palm and does his utmost to arrange his expression into something appropriately bored.

"Mathematics," Rush says shortly. "Cryptography. Some technical science application." Similarly to Asadi, he largely prefers not to delve into specifics - though unlike her, his hesitation stems from a lack of trust in both Bashir and their collective employers, rather than simply the latter. Neither of them know him, after all, and it would be more judicious to observe his motives before making absurd promises, as Asadi has just done.

He injects as much exasperation as possible into each clipped movement as he shifts attention back to noisily clinking Erlenmeyers. He gives no indication of following up on or agreeing with Asadi's outrageous pronouncement.

A dimensional physicist, cryptography, mathematics... Julian's main skills don't really fit into the mix here (though perhaps his less utilized interests fit in a bit more). But it makes him wonder exactly what Mr. Fring's endgame is, or if there is one. The man had been... unclear on what exactly this organization was or what they did. True, Julian is a scientist, but he doesn't exactly seem to be here to offer his medical services. And while the his new two... comrades? Coworkers? Lab partners? seem nice enough (ok, well Rush doesn't seem overly fond of him, but that's nothing Julian is bothered with), he doesn't really know what kind of contract they're under, if he can (or should) ask them these sorts of questions. He's not... suspicious, per se, but wary seems wise. HE is wary about his whole new life, for that matter. But he likes Iman already, with her open frankness and welcoming smile, and he's intrigued by Rush, so that's something worth holding onto for now.

"That's kind of you," Julian tells Iman with a relieved smile. "And dimensional physics? That is something I would truly like to hear more about sometime, if it's discussable." His interest is genuine, which probably comes across as it usually does. He's curious as what that might mean in this century, in this universe. "I understand if it isn't, of course. You'll forgive me if I'm asking too many questions. It's a terrible habit. Still figuring out what exactly Mr. Fring has in mind for me," he admits, relaxing

"You two do have quite the talents between you," Julian says, impressed by Imam and Rush's credentials once Rush has finished speaking and them promptly turned his attention away again. Julian isn't... the best at reading people's social cues, but he has the feeling that Rush doesn't really want to get into a deep personal discussion.

"Oh it's discussable," says Iman with a wry smile. "I don't mind discussing my talents, or yours, for that matter."

It's not subtle. When has she ever been subtle? Never that's when.

"Right now we're just doing small potatoes homework," she says. "Proving we know our shit, which we obviously do. You can observe if you want. It's not super exciting." She glances at the work out of the corner of her eye. Rush is still focused on it, unfriendly bastard.

"So, Julian," she says. Nice name. "You said Chief Medical Officer? That sounds kind of military, or some kind of organization. Care to share?"

She keeps it light, but she wants to know exactly what kind of man he is, and she expects Rush does as well.

Rush is perfectly content in allowing Asadi to seize the reigns of the conversation and direct its trajectory, as is her wont. He has displayed a minimum of interest toward the newcomer which is, in his mind, more than enough with which to start.

Military, however, snaps his attention back to the external with a subtle flare of suspicion. Bashir has not particularly given Rush the impression of being associated with a military establishment, even peripherally. Far too emotive. Far too diplomatic. Rush has not had a great deal of historic success in interactions with those beneath military sway, though perhaps Bashir's association is less direct, more reminiscent of a Jackson-McKay variant.

That is, after all, the hope.

"I'm happy to observe," Julian says. "Honestly, a little bit of work, even 'small potatoes,' would be more than welcome. Helps me to center, to think. Or not think about things, as it were," he amends.

"Getting used to the idea of being trapped in a strange past alternate universe in two days has been...an interesting challenge. Something a little more solid could be in order! Out of curiosity, is it just the two of you, or are there others with whom you consult?"

"The organization is not truly military, despite the use of military rank structure. More diplomacy based, though there are certainly some similarities in the end," Julian says, searching for the right terms that simply don't come. Starfleet is a strangely complicated organization, with a long complicated history that he doubts either of these two people wants to sit through. Or what Julian is allowed to tell them. Does the Prime Directive still apply here? He's almost given up trying to figure out protocol for this.

"Exploration, research, science, exchanging of knowledge...I joined because I wanted to see the universe, practice field medicine on the frontier." He looks around at his surroundings. "Guess I got more than I bargained for," he adds with a wry smile. "Tell me, how does one get into dimensional physics?" Julian leans back against the table behind him after taking a quick glace back to make sure he won't be knocking anything important over, looking very much like someone who still doesn't always know what to do with all the pointy, long limbs he has.

"Just us," says Iman vaguely. No need to mention the Doctor or the TARDIS yet, and definitely no need to talk about ROMAC being suspicious as all hell. She's content to let this play out. She listens to his adorable babbling for a while, half-focused on the lab work. The question he tags on at the end earns him a little smile while she fusses with a test tube.

"One goes to university after showing a significant aptitude toward physics and transmutation," she says. "Or were you asking about my childhood."

It's a gentle jab, and as soon as her instruments are set back down she leans on the table beside him, smiling more openly. "You wanted to see the universe," she says. "Space travel, I'm guessing? You two have that in common."

Again, she avoids looking at Rush. She's not entirely sure of all his many and varied buttons yet, but regardless, getting under his skin is too, too easy.

Advanced technology, capable of traversing space. That is far more interesting than initially implied, even if the man is seeming more and more like some alternate variant of fucking Jackson. He notes with a distant sense of approval that Asadi has wisely chosen to be more selective about sharing their more extracurricular activities.

"Application of practice to perfect a technical skill," he adds crisply. "Similarly, I imagine, to how most skills are obtained."

He is less enthused about her willingness to dispense information regarding his history when she has been appropriately withdrawn about hers; even with the majority of his focus devoted to their inane lab work, he favors her briefly with a sharp, deeply critical look.

Julian watches as she works and talks, taking some mental notes. "Well, it's not something I commonly ask complete strangers, potential coworker or otherwise, but I suppose I could. Why, was your childhood particularly interesting?" he asks with a smile on his face, and he is probably joking.

"That's right," Julian confirms. "Space travel, exploration, wormholes and dimensions. Though my work was generally on the station, I still did a lot of outside research and work."

"Oh really, you too?" Julian turns towards where Rush, after a look that Julian can't quite read but assumes is being shot in Iman's direction, is focused again intently on his work. "I figured from what I've been told most people aren't from this universe exactly, but are you from a future timeline as well?"

Iman only shrugs playfully in response to the question of her childhood - not particularly, no, but it's cute that he plays along.

Wormholes sounds very, very interesting, potentially useful, and that draws her to look back up at him, slightly sobered. She's a little more curious to hear what Rush has to say, and what questions he might ask given that little tidbit, so she keeps silent for now.

"Every timeline is future timeline," Rush counters dryly, gaze unmoving, "depending on the subjective standpoint."

Asadi is regarding them both with an interest he finds is beyond his grasp currently; he has not forgotten that they are, in essence, being consistently monitored, and if Bashir has no remonstrations to having his personal life's story recorded for future dissection by the uppermost echelons of whatever useless hierarchical structure of management under which ROMAC operates, then Rush will certainly not be the one to call attention to it.

It does not concern him.

In any way.

But exchange of that level of information could be, potentially, useful. It has a certain ring of applicability to it. He contemplates the least verbally informative way to communicate something that is not, by its nature, nonverbal, but would be best communicated nonverbally in accordance to present circumstances.

"Those particular fields," he says with a sedate, apparent indifference entirely contradictory to his expression's undisguised gleam of interest, "are not unfamiliar to me."

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at least this isn't awkward [closed]

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loud handwaving, the sequel

Re: loud handwaving, the sequel

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