A hole in the wall [Open]

[Aaron H]

Rain dripped down like a leaky faucet. If there was some sort of almighty being, he might want to get that checked. Looked like the heavens had a hole in them and from the crack would trickle the soft offspring of a secret rolling wave. Did that even make sense? Hell if he knew, it wasn't worth the bother, in his mind. Splish splash, his shoes were soaked and the useless covers that were supposed to PROTECT his feet was now seeping liquid as well. What was the point of shoes if they wouldn't keep his feet dry? Sometimes Aaron just didn't understand society. Between useless shoes and hipsters, it just seemed that they were regressing as much as the technology progressed. Slowly they would regress to cavemen, but there would be robots to litter the households. Cavemen with computers, that seemed like a good combination. An animation flashed through his head of a sweaty and unclean man in a loincloth beating his computer with a club. Yeah, good combination for sure. Just like wet rain and holy shoes...

Drivers flew by and barely acknowledged his existence. It was ironic how that stood. Aaron was a man who could figure out almost anything on anyone and yet, he never took advantage of that. Where was all the fun if he just looked at the test results. A written paper on health didn't describe a person completely, anyways. His feet squeaked in the most irritating of fashions and his arm was full of assorted groceries in a brown paper bag. Save the environment, melt your bag. The one day Aaron sprung for paper and it decided to border torrential rain upon the world below. At least it was holding off for the time. He should probably check the weather more often, or so he supposed. It didn't matter how many times he pondered or stated "I need to remember" it was forgotten just as quickly as spoken words. His memory faded away into the vast nothingness and it left him wondering what he even said. Was it lack of focus or lack of an actual memory? Not even he was sure on himself. It was as if his memory could work on something so simple as every item he needed in the house, but come more important things like the weather, it was as if his brain lacked existence. Possibly, it could have just been the utter lack of caring for another factor, but he would probably never bother looking more into it. Small sufferings were fine and at least he had his contacts in for the day. No spots would be on his eyesight.

The store had only been a block from his house. Not a long walk, but long enough for him to be annoyed. A gentle drizzle was quickly becoming a downpour upon his head. A shift didn't even help pull up his hood, and instead endangered his goodie bag of being dropped. Why did shopping have to be so complicated? Couldn't there be a simpler way? Of course there was, but Aaron was oddly oblivious and too stubborn to use his car for the block or borrow a cart. That would be too easy and the world would suspect him to do something smart like that. No! He'd surprise them all and pull the 'unpredictable' card. As if anyone even cared that a brown-haired man was hauling a large bag of food in his arms.

It seemed like an eon for Aaron to reach his door. The careful steps he had led to the frame and he shifted again, placing his bag on his left hip. Meanwhile he fumbled for his key-chain and put it in his mouth, while trying to sort the house key from all the other pointless ones he had. When at last it was freed, he almost ran inside to escape the rain and not to drop the groceries. They were placed upon a rather cluttered table and then separated and put away. His next feat was looking at his answering machine, only to find he was unloved (as he tended to put it) and flopped boringly into his couch. Everywhere.. computer parts were everywhere he looked but, he was oddly comfortable with that. This was his home and the parts were like the beams of foundation. The slightest missing might drive him insane. The show.. hoarders? He may have laughed, but hi problem was almost the same. At least his was part of his second job anyways. Giving the pieces and parts a home was a bit difficult, so it was barely anything for the time being. Of course, his lack of advertisement might have contributed a bit.

He sat there for a moment and rested his paining eyes. The orbs rolled a bit, rotating and looking about the various area of black that was his lids. The one problem with contacts was the still irritating feeling that lingered for what felt like forever. He'd gotten used to it a bit, although it would never be completely gone, it eased some.

With a grunt and groan, he sat up and let out a yawn. It was boring, staring at the same bits and pieces, so he'd go out for a bit. Much to his family's surprise, he wasn't an old hermit. There were times that Aaron just went out for a brisk walk and this, felt like one of those times. This time, he grabbed a jacket and his boots, shoved them on without much relent and headed out the door. There was never much to do in Creta. After the whole war, he found most people seemed even afraid to leave their houses. Aaron couldn't blame them. Had he been in their shoes he might've felt the same way. Some things though, just didn't change. It was 5:05 pm and time for his daily round about the city. Maybe his favorite shop had another busted computer he could try and fix. Either way, he would find something to occupy himself with.

[Rachel Ascot]

The raindrops were a constant hum in the limo as they pounded against the windows. It was dark outside, the nights starting earlier and lasting longer with every day. Rachel wasn't a fan of this time of year; the snow would come soon, and nobody went to nightclubs in the rain and cold. Her profession was suited to hot weather. Or, rather, her secondary profession. Now, she felt like going to meet everyone she would be involved with was her job, the amount of times she did it. She wasn't even queen yet, and yet she was told to meet the man who would become the head of intelligence. It was tiresome and redundant anyway; she was going to meet them when she was queen anyway, why before? People wanted to meet the queen, not a nightclub owner who had better things to do. And who was giving her orders anyway if she was to be queen? Well, she had to do it, she supposed, even if she couldn't really be that bothered. The man who would be in charge of intelligence seemed as good a start as any. Aaron Hart-something, if she remembered rightly. Alchemist, lived in Creta his whole life, apparently he was going blind but if he got the job done it didn't matter much to Rachel. So long as she could just leave him to his own devices and didn't need to babysit him, make sure he didn't press the wrong key on a keyboard and send a nuke to Central City or something like that.

"Miss? We're here." Came the voice of the limo driver as it pulled to a stop.

"Yeah, cheers Franklin." Rachel murmured as the limo pulled to a stop. She turned her head to check her things; her purse she shoved into the pocket of her large trenchcoat, and a Sainsbury's bag, the bright orange looking significantly duller in the dark day. Within the bag was a six pack of cans, a very dark, very bitter beer that she thought would make a nice gift. Most found it too strong, Rachel included at first, but she grew to quite like the taste. Plus, it was incredibly cheap. Finally, a black umbrella with her self-designed symbol on it; a red cross within a red ring. She opened the door, unfolding the umbrella above her head and took her steps into the rainy Cretan streets. The house wasn't that assuming, but it wasn't a dump either. He probably lived by himself, she could tell at a glance, but he didn't plan too. The house was too small for a family, too big for just one person. She looked up the pathway, and began to walk towards the door just as it opened, the light from inside the house spilling out and brightening up the front garden.

The sight that would've greeted Aaron was a lot less impressive than one would expect from a future queen, or even a duchess. Rachel had already decided that she wanted to be approachable, and made herself look accordingly; the black trenchcoat wrapped around her, with massive boots and a wide grin on her face, a carrier-bag full of beer in one hand and an umbrella in the other. While her face was recognisable, Rachel Ascot would not stand out in a crowd. As for the sight that greeted her, though... if Rachel Ascot didn't stand out in the crowd, Aaron would disappear into one. Messy hair and a shuffle to his gait, jacket for the rainy weather, a face neither ugly nor beautiful, a body neither muscular or poorly built. He was spectacular in how mundane he was. The only feature of note was his discoloured red eye, and even that then it was difficult to be shocked by it. He was so ordinary, the abnormal made sense around him. Rachel decided to make her presence known.

"Off somewhere, Aaron?" She asked, guessing that it was him. "I'm Rachel. Rachel Ascot. I phoned earlier, but you weren't in. I would've left a message, but I couldn't really be arsed." She gestured to the limosuine that sat on the curb in front of his house. "I want a word with you about the intelligence gig you're going to be doing. Want some beer? Got a six pack of it, hope you like your beer strong."

[Aaron H]

There was silence in his mind. A calm equity that simply soothed the man. It felt good to stretch his legs and his own daze had prevented his sight of a woman near him. It was mid-step he heard something. "Off somewhere, Aaron?" His eyes sought to find the body of a woman talking to him. A woman talking to HIM? What was this? Had he stumbled into a twilight zone? Since when did a woman actually chart with Aaron Hartmen? "I'm Rachel. Rachel Ascot. I phoned earlier, but you weren't in. I would've left a message, but I couldn't really be arsed. I want a word with you about the intelligence gig you're going to be doing. Want some beer? Got a six pack of it, hope you like your beer strong." She wasn't much of an important person by looks, but then looks were deceiving. She seemed like she was rich by her ride and clothes, but not someone who was official. Then again, what did he know about the officials?

"Oh.. uhmm what?" It took him a few minutes to even register what was going on. It seemed too cliche, like those old stories with people driving up in limos and offering someone a ride. A few more minutes passed and Aaron had to debate on if he owed somebody money, how he hoped not. His memory rolled in waves of every debt he'd ever had in the last three years and he found not one ounce other than that quarter he owed Tom. Well shit. He was going to be beat for a quarter. What a terrible world it was, but he found that running was not an option. SO, instead he followed up to the lady and her limo like a child to a stranger with candy. He wasn't much of a beer person, but hey, he'd deal. After all, alcohol made pain hurt less.. or something like that.

His main question was how the hell the lady knew his name. It was eery. 'Going somewhere?' It wasn't the exact wording, but it might as well have been. The hair on the back of his neck prickled to life and his feet screamed to run, but logic was better. It seemed his walk would have to be a little later and he'd switch his schedule accordingly. What a pain in the ass, but this woman must have been important to have a limo. What was the worst that could happen?

At first her words had gone completely over his head. Rachel Ascot. His intelligence gig? What was she even talking about? It had to do with his career, but what did she know and how did she know him? Her name was a gnawing familiarity, but placement had yet to ripple at the surface. So, he walked over to the woman, with intent to join her in her vehicle. This was either going to end really well, or very, terrible wrong. He hoped for the first option. "Not my thing, but one couldn't hurt." He muttered once he was within an arm's length of the limo. His brown eyes rested on her with curiosity. Just what did she know?

[Rachel Ascot]

"Oh.. uhmm what?" Came a nervous and confused mumble. Rachel almost laughed at the man as he stood stock still in the middle of his garden for almost a full ten minutes as she waited.

"Don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" She said, the everpresent smirk still on her face. Finally he began to walk over, stopping at a metre from the limo.

"Not my thing, but one couldn't hurt." He mumbled. Rachel rolled her eyes, then patted Aaron on the back a little harder than intended.

"Well, there's three for each of us. Just get in the limo and stop mumbling. I don't bite... often." She laughed, good will in her baritone boom. She piled into the limo before Aaron could, and waited for his presence. When she was sure he was in, she looked to the driver. "Franklin, somewhere close. Quiet, warm, internet access. Not my place, though, I've left it in a fucking tip."

"You're the boss, boss. Starbucks frown on bringing your own drinks, but given your upcoming job and the fact my girlfriend works there, I don't think anyone'd mind."

"It's up to you, big guy." Rachel answered, then felt the limo slowly pull forwards. She looked back to Aaron, handing him one of the beer cans and taking one for herself. "He's my bouncer and my driver. I don't pay him enough for this shit." She explained.

"Too right you don't." Rachel's reply was a loud, hard laugh, equally sarcastic and genuinely amused. Her focus drifted back to Aaron Hartmen. This guy was going to be the chief of intelligence? He was more awkward than a wonky slinky.

"You don't have a clue who I am, do you?" She asked. "I should've introduced myself better; I'm Rachel Ascot, the Duchess of Kent. It was originally an entirely honourary title, not a drop of royal blood in me, but let's say you and I will be working together quite a bit..."

She reconsidered her explanation. She never liked to boast, but vagueness wasn't going to win her friends.

"... well, in other words, I'm going to be queen in a few weeks." She reclined in her seat a little, her eyes now fixed onto Aaron. "Don't get me wrong though, I don't want to be someone who no one ever sees, sitting in her tower all day and watching out slits in the wall. I want to make sure we're on real good terms before we start, seeing as what you'll be doing is apparently pretty important." She took a sip of her beer, her smirk becoming a warmer, friendlier smile. "Sorry, I'm rambling, I'm really here to get to know you, so... what makes you tick, Aaron? I can call you Aaron, right? I don't like formalities, call me Rachel, by the way, none of this 'duchess' this, 'miss' that, 'your majesty' the other."

[Aaron H]

Aaron wasn't exactly sure how he got in the situation he was in. All he knew was one minute he was going to tale a walk around his house and the next he was in the limousine with a celebrity. This sort of stuff didn't happen to him. Aaron was just a normal shmoe with a habit of collecting invaluable pieces of computers, while fixing them. Though his more interesting ability might have leaked some. It wasn't his ability to score with the ladies and boy was he glad about that. He was pretty sure if Jack had the slightest knowing of Aaron's thoughts he'd probably laugh his ass off. After all it was preposterous to think Aaron could get with- Well there was no real importance. The likely responses he heard from his head was along the lines of "How much did you have to pay." If it wasn't possible to hurt your own pride, Aaron would have just broken that law. Oh well, over the fact his abductor was a woman, he proceeded to listen to her chat.

"He's my bouncer and my driver. I don't pay him enough for this shit." Aaron nodded towards her, looking for a buckle to slip into. So what if he was one of the weirdos who wore a seat-belt? At least he felt comfortable and safe.. minorly. He had no chance to speak as the chauffeur and the woman prattled back and forth. "You don't have a clue who I am, do you? I should've introduced myself better; I'm Rachel Ascot, the Duchess of Kent. It was originally an entirely honourary title, not a drop of royal blood in me, but let's say you and I will be working together quite a bit..." His staring wasn't intentional, simply a distant look to slowly roll the thoughts into. So this woman was going to be queen and HOLY HELL WHAT?! He was going to be working with this woman often? A few hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It had been a while since Aaron really knew who he was working for and now, he was told a Queen was asking him to work with her? He hadn't even opened the beer and he already felt like a drunken moron. She wasn't done talking either.

"... well, in other words, I'm going to be queen in a few weeks. Don't get me wrong though, I don't want to be someone who no one ever sees, sitting in her tower all day and watching out slits in the wall. I want to make sure we're on real good terms before we start, seeing as what you'll be doing is apparently pretty important. Sorry, I'm rambling, I'm really here to get to know you, so... what makes you tick, Aaron? I can call you Aaron, right? I don't like formalities, call me Rachel, by the way, none of this 'duchess' this, 'miss' that, 'your majesty' the other."

His brain was a bit slow in the works. In between sentences the woman had adjusted and poured beer between her lips. Slowly, the man came back down to earth. "Aaron's fine. As for what makes me tick, I'd like to say it's my heart." His dry humor was followed by a blank look before he released his confusion into a sigh on the air. "Anyways. I'm really just a computer nerd with a few er.. odd hobbies." Of course he was referring to his tinkering. The chip he had.. would it come of use. He'd have to talk to Jack more. That wasn't something he was ready to unveil just yet. Just a computer nerd summed it all up. His tenancies, his programming, it was all just self-benefactory just until his more recent job of fixing a virus-consumed hard-drive. "So Rachel, with more technicalities out of the way, what is it you PRECISELY need to know?" Okay, so he wasn't one to beat around the bush. That was perfectly fine to live life that way.

His finger flicked open the beer and sour scent filled his nose. When WAS the last time he'd had a beer? It certainly had been a while. The cold can pressed to his lips and flavor followed. It was a bitter cold he was unaccustomed to, but not disgusting. Kind of like drinking water, it was drinking nothing special.

[Rachel Ascot]

"Aaron's fine. As for what makes me tick, I'd like to say it's my heart." Rachel replied to this with a very loud, singular laugh.

"Humour! We need a bit more of it around here." She said, letting Aaron carry on.

"Anyways. I'm really just a computer nerd with a few er.. odd hobbies. So Rachel, with more technicalities out of the way, what is it you PRECISELY need to know?"

"Well, what seems important?" She asked, turning the question around. She wanted to probe the man as much as she wanted to get him to like him; she wasn't joking about wanting to know how to Aaron ticked; she wanted to make sure she knew everything about him, make sure there were no problems and that he would do what she wanted him to do when she asked. She wanted him as one of her people, as it were. "I don't need to talk about your sight issues if you don't want to. I'd ask you if it will be a problem, but I don't think you're incapable of doing your job. Anything else that'd be a problem, I'd like to know, but if I might ask before that, what led to you wanting to be in charge of intelligence? I don't doubt you're qualified, but why go down this..."

"Miss Ascot. Mister Hartmen."

Rachel turned her head at her driver's words. "Huh. We're here." She commented, before looking to Aaron. "Come on, if you want coffee or something I'll pay for it." She said, before getting out of the car and taking a step back into the black rainy London evening.

[Aaron H]

"Well, what seems important? I don't need to talk about your sight issues if you don't want to. I'd ask you if it will be a problem, but I don't think you're incapable of doing your job. Anything else that'd be a problem, I'd like to know, but if I might ask before that, what led to you wanting to be in charge of intelligence? I don't doubt you're qualified, but why go down this..." Hrrggg.. This woman was chatty. Aaron wasn't exactly sure how to react to her. He blinked slowly, letting her carry on through her sentences. Before he could even say anything, the woman was on about them going into a building. JESUS he was getting whiplash. All he could really manage was a nod and shifting OUT of the Limmo to follow the woman INTO a- Cafe? HELL YES! Coffee was nature's reward of life.

Unfortunately the world also hated him and he stepped into another puddle. UGH. Good thing he had his boots on, otherwise his wet socks would be soaked socks and he would soon after be sick with pneumonia. Naturally, he wanted to avoid that outcome. A cold was bad and bronchitis was even worse. "Sure. Coffee sounds great." He seemed cheered already as he followed the lady into the coffee shop. He had no arguments for her, and like a child to candy, he could not fight the call of the brew.

"Anyways, the reason I got into Intel was my appeal of coding. I enjoy the aspects of rewriting things, understanding, translating and just technology in genera. It's always been my interest." His shoulders shrugged and a sigh followed close. "Ehhh.. That's why I took my college courses on it."

[Rachel Ascot]

Rachel could do little else but nod at the answer she got. "Anyways, the reason I got into Intel was my appeal of coding. I enjoy the aspects of rewriting things, understanding, translating and just technology in genera. It's always been my interest." No, she thought. Too vague. He was either being distant out of fear, distant out of social awkwardness, or was flat-out lying. No one just 'goes into' intelligence and counter-intelligence. You need to be devoted, have some purpose and will. Rachel peered at Aaron, decoding him like a military document. She pondered over his words and his distant tone. Inside her head, a little gremlin hopped around great banks of memory, looking for Aaron Hartmen. What had she been told about him?

An answer clicked very quickly.

"Aaron, I know I said we wouldn't talk about anything that made you uncomfortable but I wanted you to be brutally honest." In a flash, Rachel's voice became a lot colder, a creeping menace poking out of it. Her hand reached for a cup she didn't order, but Franklin placed her tea right into her hands, seemingly stepping out of thin air to do it. The future queen's gaze remained transfixed on Aaron. "Though if you're going to dance around the issue, might I guess? This is a distraction to you." She moved to the nearest table to her, pulling a chair out for herself while Franklin pointed Aaron to one for him.

"I'm just going to pay and talk to..."

"Ok, Franklin." Rachel half-heartedly said, still on a roll with her diagnosis of Aaron and not wanting to use her track. Her driver and bouncer awkwardly looked around, then walked away, paying for drinks for both of them. "Back to what I was saying, I think you chose intel because it's difficult, and you want difficulty because it will occupy your mind. And you want your mind occupied because something bad happened. Either something you did, or something had someone did to you, or both. I've got my fair history of dirt, Aaron; you look like you're squeaky clean but the mud's showing." She stopped to finish her beer, letting the tea cool a little. She downed the entire can in a flash, it seemed; a life in a nightclub taught her how to drink lots and drink fast. When she finished, her tone became a bit more soothing, almost like a mother telling you everything was ok.

"I'm not saying this because I mind, which I don't, or because I've got information on you, which I don't, or because I'm onto you, which I'm not." She explained, her voice calming enough to dull fires. "I want to be your friend. You don't need to tell me anything about what happened or when, but what I do need to know is that you're not doing this intelligence gig on a whim. I need you devoted to this." "Someone has to be," Rachel said to herself, "- because I'm not going through the blasted paperwork to find someone else."

She took a long sip of her tea to let Aaron answer.

[Aaron H]

"Aaron, I know I said we wouldn't talk about anything that made you uncomfortable but I wanted you to be brutally honest. Though if you're going to dance around the issue, might I guess? This is a distraction to you."

He felt a twinge of uneasiness. It felt like this was starting to go off onto a path he wasn't really wanting to go down. A distraction? What could she mean by that? He felt his stomach clutch. Did this woman know? How much DID she know? He hushed as she prepared to speak again, after dismissing her driver again.

"Back to what I was saying, I think you chose intel because it's difficult, and you want difficulty because it will occupy your mind. And you want your mind occupied because something bad happened. Either something you did, or something had someone did to you, or both. I've got my fair history of dirt, Aaron; you look like you're squeaky clean but the mud's showing." That was the moment Aaron's blood ran cold. Chills swam down his spine and a feeling of panic drenched his mind. That feeling of being caught in the middle of something he shouldn't be like a child with its hand in the cookie jar. He was pegged, straight on, by some mere stranger? How was that even possible. The whole idea was enough to make him wonder, just WHO this woman was. His eyes narrowed, trying to cover the slight fault in his normally blank face. The ripple would be notice, he was sure, but struck nerves were hard to hide. Control returned quickly and once again, he was staring at this woman he hardly knew whom was speaking to him.

"I'm not saying this because I mind, which I don't, or because I've got information on you, which I don't, or because I'm onto you, which I'm not. I want to be your friend. You don't need to tell me anything about what happened or when, but what I do need to know is that you're not doing this intelligence gig on a whim. I need you devoted to this." Brutally honest, but still understandable. She couldn't have someone taking this position with wishy-washy beliefs. She needed someone solid. Aaron's eyes showed a thoughtfulness as his brow furrowed. What should he do now? Speak what he truly felt or avoid the situation like the plague. Both situations seemed awkward and troublesome. Which, however, was the lesser of two evils? Aaron took a shaky breath.

The whole situation was odd for him. He wanted to prove his grit, but when it bordered on his past, it kind of heart. He wished to forget, to just go into a state where the past no longer existed. His chest tightened and he could feel a sting of pain. It still hurt, even after all those years, it still hurt. He wanted to let it go and breathe again, but the shadowy hand of despair choked out his ability to move on. She was gone. After what she did, the world came around and got her back, but he hadn't wanted that. He had only hoped one day she too, would find happiness. Was there a smile on that corpse? More chills at the thought, her body still and unmoving. Death.. no one could escape death. Even his best friend had... just barely.

A hand rose to his naturally red eye, even if the brown contacts made it look different. His hands cupped the drink in his hand. Drowsy and strained eyes rested upon the curves of the can. One drink at a time, one step at a time. There was a few moments of silence, before his composure was regained and once more he could speak. "You're right." He shrugged his shoulders. "I busy myself with this, because it helps me forget." He felt his lip twitched into a bit of a smile. "But, I'll be damned if I let anything stop me. I'd give my left arm for my country, well actually more than that. I enjoy what I do, because I do! There is no real explanation for it, no complex psycho analysis is needed. I just. Love. This. Work." Well it was pretty damn close with computers, but those were Aaron's lovers really.

He felt his voice raise and cleared his throat, looking back down. "Anyways, sorry I like to dodge questions. It's better to know who I will be, rather than who I've been." Finally he looked back up at her and shrugged. Well, that was that, in his own opinion. The drink went back to his lips and he slowly nursed more into his system.

[Rachel Ascot]

To the uninitiated, Aaron looked unnerved slightly. To Rachel, he might as well be shaking and shuddering in the chair. He was desperately trying to hide his discomfort, and Rachel couldn't help but smirk. Her skills were small, but she was a master of reading people and immediately using that to either comfort them or squeeze their balls.

"You're right." He shrugged his shoulders. "I busy myself with this, because it helps me forget." Rachel had to stop herself asking what, but she gave no hint of her curiosity, only giving a sympathetic look. "But, I'll be damned if I let anything stop me. I'd give my left arm for my country, well actually more than that. I enjoy what I do, because I do! There is no real explanation for it, no complex psycho analysis is needed. I just. Love. This. Work. Anyways, sorry I like to dodge questions. It's better to know who I will be, rather than who I've been"

"It's fine, I understand. I'm not the biggest fan of serious discussion either, I just needed to clear it up." Rachel said, taking another sip of her tea. She gestured between the two. "You know this discussion thing is a two-way street, right? You can ask me whatever you want besides stuff about television, where my dad's body is or my bra size, because I don't watch TV anymore, I don't know the answer to that one, and only Franklin knows that." She punctuated it with another sip of tea. "Mmm, this stuff's not bad for Starbucks, their tea's usually pisswater."

[Aaron H]

"It's fine, I understand. I'm not the biggest fan of serious discussion either, I just needed to clear it up. You know this discussion thing is a two-way street, right? You can ask me whatever you want besides stuff about television, where my dad's body is or my bra size, because I don't watch TV anymore, I don't know the answer to that one, and only Franklin knows that. Mmm, this stuff's not bad for Starbucks, their tea's usually pisswater."

...What?

WHAT?! She had just- Well now he HAD to look. FUCK. As much as he tried to resist, the woman had pointed out that he couldn't ask, so now he wondered. Were they big and she just was playing coy or so tiny that she felt insecure? Prior to her statement, he hadn't even THOUGHT about her bosoms, but now the perverse side of his mind had to come into play. Screw being a man. He only took a peak and then he was satisfied. Well, he DID feel filthy, but hey, shit happened. Okay, after that situation had been fixed, Aaron would pull his eyes back to his coffee and debate seriously on dumping the remaining beer INTO his coffee,

Well, anyways, the conversation was now back in his hands. What all he could ask, to learn about. His words blurted out before he could even organize him. "Why me?" Then he stopped a second and continued with a barrage of questions he hadn't intended to ask all at once. "What resources will I be granted? Is there a specific model of computer I will have? Better yet, will I get to know of the newer models quicker than most?" There he went, on his little technology espionage.

After a second, he regained himself and pulled together. His hands flipped at his collar and a goofy grin shone behind a sheepish expression. "Err Sorry." He apologized before calming his child-like giddiness for machines. Oh yeah, what was about not knowing where her father's body was? Eh, he had heard weirder stuff before. His brown eyes rove to find her eyes, making eye contact for what he felt like was the first time all night.

[Rachel Ascot]

Rachel was a little taken aback by the sudden influx of enthusiasm to say the least.

"Why me? What resources will I be granted? Is there a specific model of computer I will have? Better yet, will I get to know of the newer models quicker than most?" Suddenly, a pause, and then Aaron broke out a goofy grin. Rachel had to remind herself to blink; he loved his computers. Probably to an inappropriate degree. He might be working on a way to make love to a computer for years. Was that what he was so hurt by? Did he get arrested for fucking a government database? She'd need to look into that, make sure it wasn't true.

"Well..." Rachel began, before looking into Aaron's eyes as he, for the first time, actually made eye contact with her.

"Oh my god, I think he did!" She thought, and desperately tried not to say it.

"Name any computer. Doesn't have to be expensive, or cheap. Doesn't even have to be real." She then clicked her fingers for emphasis. "It's yours. Whatever software you need, whatever hardware, whatever specs... ummm..." Rachel gulped nervously. She didn't want to address her creepy suspicions, so she just coughed awkwardly. "... anything else. Anything that gets the job done. It's yours. How does that sound?"

[Aaron H]

"Name any computer. Doesn't have to be expensive, or cheap. Doesn't even have to be real. It's yours. Whatever software you need, whatever hardware, whatever specs... ummm... anything else. Anything that gets the job done. It's yours. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." He smiled silently. That was what he wanted. All the machinery he wanted? That was a heavenly experience. He could figure them out, use them, explore them. The thought excited him as a child with Christmas. All the new possibilities, the new gadgetry! He loved the thoughts and the ideas that started to pour from his mind. Tinkering, it was as natural as his own heartbeat and machines didn't have to feel. Sometimes he wondered if ,maybe that was what he wanted. Did he just want to not feel? The answer was an obvious no. He loved to feel, but that memory,.. it had just made it hard to move on.

Feelings and memory were two whole different universes. One allowed to think back and recall those feelings and the other was just like a breath. It happened, then it was breathed out to the wind. He enjoyed feeling, not that he enjoyed pain, but without pain, he could not understand pleasure. So the lesser of two evils would be just to not remember it. Even then.. it hurt. How many years had it been and he was left without a closure. He forced himself to understand.. she wasn't coming back, she wouldn't feel bad for what she had done and even more so.. she had NEVER felt anything for him. He'd wasted his life and now those memories were one sided lies.

His eyes clouded a moment, and for a second, he had to pull out his eye drops. Contacts were feeling a bit dry, so with his head turned, he fixed the problem. One blink, two blink and it was all okay again. He rolled his eyes, getting the contacts readjusted, before turning back to the woman. "Alright, so we got our bases covered, then?"

[Csilla Angelis]

{BUMP}

[Sponsored content]