kismet_loop_logs | "Home" is a shelter from storms

Entry tags:

"Home" is a shelter from storms

Who: Hiro, Sam, eventually Dirge, ETA: Breakdown
What: Since Hiro has to have somewhere to stay, Sam's helping him get situated.
When: Following this thread
Where: The Hub.
Warnings: Dirge, and predictably, profanity.

From the hall, there was little to distinguish Sam’s apartment. Its door was one among many in the human-scale section of the Hub’s habitation wing, and could’ve easily been exchanged for any of the others found on the third floor. Still, it was Sam’s, and even outside that showed. It was in her ‘here we are’ attitude, and the way she set a shoulder against the doorframe in pausing. Some introduction seemed appropriate, so…

She shrugged, smiling.

“It’s not my house, but all the same? ‘Enter freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring.’”

That said, she opened the door.

The room it opened onto wasn’t unusual in its design (a kitchenette with a partial wall, the principle living space, one wide window with a decent view, closet, corridor) but it was unusual in its décor---burnished copper covered the floor, the walls, the ceiling, in solid sheets. It wasn’t entirely unbroken, as darkly-varnished branches had been laid across the walls like latticework, and a couple of shaggy rag rugs covered a portion of the floor. A third (green, rust-red, and ochre, like the others) had been thrown over the couch, which was wicker (matching most of the furniture) and more of a stubby settee.

“It was weird enough I fell in love when I found it.”

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These conditions are cruel and unusual, and Sam throwing up her arms is obviously an invitation for Hiro to poke her in the ribs with one socked foot, scowling. "Fine, fine, fun-sucker. No huge chore-doing robots for you."

Hiro can totally emote about how much high school sucked and the various drama's surrounding his entrance to college...later. Much later. Right now he has to confirm some theories that, despite sharing a Canada, maybe Sam and him aren't from the same world.

"...well, San Francisco burned down like, a hundred years ago. Bunch of immigrants from Japan rebuilt it, made it the major trans-Pacific trading route, eventual California seat of commerce and trade and stuff. San Fransokyo. Get it?" Then, rolling his eyes, "That can't possibly be true. Don't lie to me, you get an extra life once you return to Canada. It's a thing, like the moose and the poutine and the first cyborg prime minister."

Though Sam had never been fast on her feet---far from it, with an off leg---she had nothing to hamper her hands, and so could catch and hold the offending foot's ankle without undue difficulty. (Moreover, she could catch and hold the offending foot's ankle without undue difficult, and continue to converse sort-of straight-faced, as if she were entirely innocent.) Since she could, she did. "This is a good size apartment, but it's still an apartment and I don't want any huge robots in it. Also, you make it sound like a limit of one security bot for a few rooms is unreasonable. It really isn't." She shrugged, still holding that ankle. Securely. "It's not like I'm against other additions, so long as they are also on the small side." Much, much, later, she would identify that sentence as the one with which it all went wrong.

"That's cool, but the San Francisco I know of mostly burned down about a hundred years ago, too, and as of 2014 it's still San Francisco. And ohhhh," The groan she loosed was low and pained. "sweet summer child, it's sad, but it's true, too! There's a slim, slim chance you might manage a Sam McGee, but odds are awful and trust me, man; the first cyborg prime minister isn't as awesome as it sounds. I don't know if a compassion chip was accidentally omitted or what, but Harper is a cold and unfeeling ass."

Edited 2015-04-06 18:58 (UTC)

...whoops. Hiro clearly didn't think this far ahead, judging by his scowl and not-at-all subtle wiggles to get his foot free. Nope, he's stuck, she's gonna have a Hiro's foot to add to her rabbit one, to bring her technological wisdom and hyperactivity. "I can do a series of tiny robots. That's sort of my specialty." But he's quietly stowing away this thought and, lo, in the deep recesses of his mind, there begin the tiniest sparks of inspiration that will become blenderbot.

Oh dear, oops, have a triumphant grin because lol, Sam, you're officially from the olden days. "Alternate universe, must be. Cause it's 2030 and we're San Fransokyo and Harper was deposed in the North Montana uprisings of '17. Spoiler alert."

"I am torn, really and truly, between asking you to tell me all about 'em, or going on to address that issue of ground rules." Sam drummed the fingers of her free hand against the sole of the foot she still held---thoughtfully, as if drumming them against a tabletop---before relenting and releasing her captive. "Ground rules seem like they might take less time. I'm not a hardass."

~~Between blenderbot, the robo-roaster, and whatever else came to be, The Danger Zone was destiny---if such a thing existed.~~

"I am, however, curious---and North Montana? I've never been, but bully for them! Anyway, tell me and tell me true; are flying cars a thing yet? I ask, cause if they aren't, you're not from the future... just further on. If they are, though, alright! If I exist in your universe, it's something I'll get to see... even if I'm in my forties, which is a weird thought." She wondered momentarily, how anyone could simultaneously feel so young and so old, (though that was easily answered, with Breakdown and Hiro to be blamed) shook her head, and moved on. "Guess I oughta get used to it, and act like a real adult for a few. To that end... I've had a few roommates, and so I'd like to reuse the rules which work. First up, I think, is most important. If I'm doing something that bugs you, whatever it is---reading over your shoulder, just as an example---say so. Please. I'll do the same. Nobody gets mad, we just talk it out so that nothing continues until someone starts to really resent it. How's that sound?"

"We've got ti-- nnnng!" That sound right there is one that Sam would be wise to store away in her tactical brain, because that sound is a pretty strong indicator that one Hiro Hamada has the most ticklish feet in the history of ever. He'll squirm away and tuck his feet underneath himself again, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out, because that's juvenile and he's an adult.

"Montana splits in 2010 in my timeline. Votership make-up reasons, mostly. They try to invade, it's pretty hilarious." Hiro pauses for a moment, because tragically, flying cars are not a thing. He'll evade, offering: "We run totally on renewable wind energy?" That's cool, right?

Then, teasing now, but genuinely curious: "Now I wanna know how many roommates hid their inner rage and then challenged you to a duel in the Miasma. Were there a lot? Tell me there were some epic battles." Translation: yes, that sounds fine, he won't be dueling anyone because he is several toothpicks held together with cotton fluff and plucky determination.

That noise was duly noted, unfortunately for Hiro, and as unfortunately? Sam shared a number of his weaknesses on account of being the same species, but ticklish feet weren't one of them. The soles of her feet---twice-tattooed and anything but thin-skinned---were roughly as sensitive as the heels of her hands.

"Really? That does sound... entertaining. You realize I've a cultural obligation to mention 1812 about now? It's what passes for patriotism." Token effort acknowledged (and evasion observed!) Sam tilted her head. "Further on is sounding sweeter and sweeter, I must say... though I'm sorry to say, none, cause you're the first roommate I've had here. The others were all in Alberta, and I never really fought with any them, save for one fairly epic out-screaming. I like to think I'm good at getting along; every real fight I've had has been with some stranger what started it. But that's not beside the point so much as far left field."

So much for acting like a real adult? So much for sounding like one.

"The other rules I'd let to set out are largely common-sense convenience things. Like, before you invite anybody over, talk to me, just so I know who's coming into my home, here. And if someone comes knocking, never answer 'come in,' but ask who it is and then just tell them the door's unlocked instead. And about doors, leave the bathroom's open when it's not in use or unbearable, okay? I bring that up because, as a policy, it makes accidental intrusions a lot less likely." She stopped, considering. "The last big point of contention is probably kitchen stuff. I think it's fair if we do dishes together at the end of each day, manage the mess without arguing."

Hopefully Sam knows to be wise and bids her time, waiting until such a time as there's no other option to utilize this information regarding Hiro's massive ticklishness. Great power and great responsibility and all. But never fear; Hiro will discover a weakness Of Sam's sooner or later.

For now, though, he'll roll his eyes. "Right, right, 1812, maple leaves, Mounties, patriotism. Got it. Great. Moving right along -- do you normally get in head-to-head battles with strangers? Because if so: awesome. Vigilante-level awesome."

These rules get one of those genuine, lopsided grins. "Who am I gonna invite over? Some giant robots? The evil space pig? I think we're good on that front, dude." The dishes rule, predictably, gets a teenagerish eyeroll. "UGH, fine, if you insist."

While everyone was warned of patient men, most never mentioned that the fury of a patient woman was often worse. The witch would wait to terrorize her ward (?) with tickling, (and/or the threat of it,) but she did not wait or even hesitate to respond with a raspberry when he rolled his eyes.

"Not normally?" She didn't mind moving on, even if these questions were a far cry from the standard introductory exchange. "Usually only in riots, and I've only been in two big ones, both undoubtedly ancient history as far as you're concerned."

Hiro's grin got a grin in return, and Sam shrugged. "How should I know, unless you say something? There's a fair few human and human-sized---and smaller!---people in and around Haven, and you're bound to befriend some of said people, because if anything seems to be true of the people present? It's that most of 'em have solid senses of humour and will banter back. Most of the examples I might name are, I admit, giant robots, but it's not like I haven't hung out with other organics... and I do insist, on all of the above. If I didn't, they wouldn't go under 'ground rules.' We're almost done the dull adult discussion, though."

At least 'dull' could be debated.

"Last point is 'the kitchen, continued.' It's not like food costs here, but as a courtesy thing? If there's one serving left of something I chose or made, ask before you eat it. Odds are I'll say sure, and if there's two servings of something left one is fully fair game, but it's not a nice surprise to go to the fridge anticipating that last pop or piece of pizza to find nothing where it was."

Um, rude, Sam, keep your raspberries to yourself. It's not Hiro's fault that your patriotism is hilarious. He even starts to nudge at you again, before remembering that this will inevitably lead to more tickling.

"Riots? Like, your garden-variety sports riots, or...intense alternate-Earth revolutionary riots?" Hiro is convinced there's something about Sam's timeline that is cooler than his own. If there aren't robots, there has to be something even better, right?

This gets a little bit of a self-conscious shrug. "I-I dunno, I'm not exactly...good at the socializing thing." Understatement of the century; his best friends are a robot and a study group of college students. And his cat. Hiro is, tragically, Mr. Introverted Nerd Stereotype.

Then, for this final point: "What if I've just pulled a 36-hour work day? Can I waive the "don't eat the last piece of pizza" rule then?" Negotiation is the basis of any good roomie relationship, right?

~~'Rude' was patently impossible; Canadians were always polite.~~

Sam shook her head, now somewhat serious. "The Vancouver Cup Riot started with the Stanley Cup, but it's not right to call it garden-variety when it was the single messiest sports riot we have had. The damage done, for its duration...? Incredible. And about duration; the Maple Spring stuff---don't laugh, that's really what it came to be called---stemmed mostly from student protests, but had some activity from February to September. So I'd say they were both significant, and I'm lucky to have been at both." Lucky the way storm-chasers were lucky, when windshields cracked for the camera.

"Two friends so far." It wasn't exactly an argument, with the tone Sam took; more of an observation. "If you're not exactly good at the socializing thing, you're not half bad at it, either. But anyway, I have to ask; what work would you expect to involve a thirty-six hour stint? If it's Skynet in my apartment, I need to know. If not? I say eh, you can waive the rule if I'm asleep and so unavailable for asking. If you're ever ill through no fault of you own, then, too, the rule's suspended. It sucks being sick, everyone agrees."

"Oh. Jeez." Hiro would be making fun of the Stanley Cup thing (because hockey) but it stops being funny when people actually get hurt and stuff actually gets wrecked. "Why were you there? Vigilante-ing?"

...wait, she said "friend", does that mean she counts him as a friend? Already? What? Hiro is trying and failing not to look all starry-eyed and happy about this turn of events, because nobody wants to be his friend on their own, ever. "Uhhhh, not Skynet necessarily, no. Nothing that should end in apocalyptic stuff. I just...hyperfocus sometimes, that's all."

She'd been nineteen, and so to be at a major event (hockey or other, though nothing garnered national attention quite like Lord Stanely's Cup) in a major city had been something of a coming-of-age experience... and an experience it had been, boy.

"I was there because I got a ticket as an early birthday present. My parents've always liked to surprise me with one any month outside December, since a birthday close to Christmas is sort of overshadowed. End game in June, good time to travel, so there I was... and I was there." The moderate seriousness fell away in favour of a lopsided little grin, since there wasn't much more to say. As Sam saw it, the most acceptable course of action had been pretty clear-cut. "Being there, when things started to go south it was pretty clear to me that I wasn't going to get out any time soon, so I decided that if I was going to be in it, I was going to be in it, and ought to see what I could do through the duration."

Then, and now, it seemed she'd done something right.

"As long as nobody gets hurt---or otherwise comes to harm---no big. I'm seriously not a hardass, even if I am serious about the rules set out so far. I take it they're all tolerable enough?"

Hiro likely regards that a bit differently, since he's been running around a major city unsupervised for over a year (despite his brother's best efforts). But still, there's probably a significant difference between roaming the streets as a kid and doing so as an adult. Or a perceived adult, anyways.

He nods approvingly at this story, wondering vaguely what he would've done. Likely not been there in the first place -- crowds make him anxious. But still, it ratchets his respect for Sam up a couple notches to know that she'd been unsure and young and alone and still found the guts to do the right thing. "Still, pretty cool of you. I know most people would've just wanted to get outta there as soon as possible."

The question gets a nod, and Hiro relaxing enough to unzip his backpack and pull out Megabot. "As long as I don't have to pay rent, I'm good," he teases gently.

She laughed, colouring slightly (curses, betrayed by her own hide!) and turned her hands up helplessly. "Thanks, but if I'd made a real effort at getting out as soon as possible? I would've been out maybe an hour earlier." And learned a lot less.

Sam abandoned any additional elaborations as Hiro took the little robot in hand, leaning over to give it an interested eyeing. "You can't pay rent; you're fourteen. And if you could cough up, I'd have no good place to put it, so this simplifies things all around. Speaking of things, though, we are going to have to go get you things... after you tell me all about that thing you have, here."

Edited 2015-04-12 20:41 (UTC)

"And totally missed out on the whole "formative justice" thing too, right?" Hiro's teasing now, crossing his feet underneath him and setting the robot in between them on the couch, before digging around for the remote control. "Wouldn't make much of an epic backstory."

Oh, wait, things. Right. He doesn't have much with him besides Megabot and an excessive amount of gummy bears. The idea of getting things (which means shopping which historically means boring) gets a scrunched-up nose. Hiro's happy for the distraction, pushing a couple buttons so the happy-faced robot rises up and toddles over to poke at Sam's knee. "Megabot. I made him for semi-illegal back alley miniature bot fighting. We're undefeated." ...yeah, he looks pretty damn smug right now.

"I don't have much of an epic backstory." Sensing that this was, perhaps, a road to increasingly-unwarranted expectations, Sam sat back against the settee, hands loosely clasped on her lap. "The single most impressive thing I did during the riot was avoid being successfully stabbed."

It might've been a moment spent misspeaking---unintentionally, in this instance---but the adept seized on the opening Hiro's little bunny-bot offered, unfeigned delight all over her face.

"That is so cool. You weren't kidding when you said tiny robots were your speciality, man! May I?" She paused long enough to be stopped only if the answer was an emphatic 'no,' before poking the little bot back and then picking it up to examine. "Semi-illegal, eh?"

~~THERE IT WAS~~

"I... don't really disapprove. It's too cool to. The smiley face is a nice touch, too." She chanced a glance over and snorted, amused. "But I'm going to cut myself off after 'congratulations' cause your ego's inflating. Right before my eyes."

"Oh c'mon. It's epic compared to like...accountants." Everything is epic compared to accountants, though. Accountants generally don't end up in danger of being stabbed. Then, because hopefully his opinion will matter at least somewhat: "I think it's pretty cool."

Hiro is trying (and failing) to keep from preening under the praise, cracking that cheeky grin of his and mashing at the buttons. "Oh, you haven't even seen cool yet," he says smugly, as Megabot goes from wobbly and smiling to straight up-and-down, angry red face taking over. Then the little robot is dividing into three, one piece rolling up Sam's arm to poke at her neck, the other piggybacking on it to muss her hair. The third segment weaves itself in between her fingers, just to show off.

"I appreciate that." Speaking in earnest, Sam emphasized the admission with a small, solemn nod. "A lot, actually."

So she said; so she did. Hiro knew what, where the riot was, that it had been bad, that she had stuck around willingly and meant well, and that she hadn't been shanked...? Minimal information---minimal at most, as a lot had happened before the crowd quieted. It would stay that way for a while; she hadn't set out to impress anyone, and anyway, at present? She was impressed, totally taken with Megabot and laughing at its antics.

"Now? Now? Now you can't say I haven't seen cool yet and I love that the little bugger's two-faced to boot! Strike some dread into the hearts of your enemies, signal it's actually on." Sam fanned her hand, spent a moment watching Megabot's midsection move, and again looked over, now grinning. "I'd ask about 'how' but I've stayed away from the sciences beyond a bit of bio. The why, at least, is obvious."

Do you feel like a responsible adult yet, Sam? A responsible adult who has an (admittedly smart, but still) kid to watch out for now?

...let's ignore that and focus on Megabot and how cool he is. Hiro played around for a moment more, then had the little robot reassemble itself on the couch cushion, face switching back to yellow and happy, then prompted it to bow politely from it's middle. "Yeahhhh, that was always the best," he said, smiling fondly. "You might not have guessed -- cause I'm so mature and all -- but most back-alley thugs underestimate me. It's hilarious to watch them go from thinking they know everything to sitting with their mouths hanging open after I hand their ass-- uh. After I beat them."

Yes, Sam is cool, but is she cool enough to let swearing (even mild Disney-esque swearing) slide?

If asked, she would've said 'sort of?' and shrugged. Responsible? She supposed she was, but 'adult' was iffy---especially with friends and neighbours eons older screwing up any sense of chronological scale.

Megabot's bow garnered a rapid pattering of as-polite and enthusiastic applause, before Sam turned in her corner to face bot and boy fully. "It would be." The adept probably couldn't've kept from grinning at the thought of how auras would echo such shifts in expression, and couldn't be bothered to try. Instead, she sighed and stood, admitting "I'd've liked to have seen it for myself."

Sam blinked; not at the swear, so much as at the last-second substitution.

"That said," the opportunity to tease had tempted her towards that wording, "D'you want to see what you'll have to work with, and then head on out? I'm happy to have you here, but I got nothin' for a guest. No bedding---though there was a hammock here---and no spare bathroom stuff, but for some really nice sandalwood soap."

Edited 2015-04-14 22:58 (UTC)

Can she legally drive a car? Then she's an adult to Hiro (even more so than Tadashi, since he could only manage a scooter). Still, the admiring grin is very nice for the kid's ego, which is enough to make any cocky little teenager feel right at home. "It was pretty sick. Attempted gang-beatings aside, of course."

There's a loooong pause, before: "Uhm. What is a sandalwood?"

Learning to drive and getting a licence to drive legally had been important---for someone living in a remote area, for someone with a tendency to move cross-country, and for 'life in the real world' though Sam's present made the last a moot point. (The real world she'd been encouraged to expect did not involve robots, dragons, or napping often at all.) And at the last---

"Only attempted, I'm hoping to hear." A beat, to underscore, before Sam tilted her head. "Sort of obscure further on, apparently? But it's a nice-smelling tree."

Don't mention that you live somewhere remote, Sam, Hiro will assume you wrestle moose every morning and eat live squirrels. He's a city kid through and through. He'll shrug off the worry about getting beaten up with a simple, "I had a big brother who got me outta that kinda thing," and leaving it at that.

Then, with a very serious look: "Your soap is made out of trees. We need to go shopping immediately."

That natural, nonchalant dismissal got a "Good," before the past tense could give the adept pause. It hit a second after she spoke---Sam was not inobservant---but by then she had already turned away, to start for what was once a spare room.

"Why is that an issue? It only has tree oil in it, and some of my other soap has tea tree oil in it. It is," she began, turning back, "supposed to be good for your skin. And I guess we can go now, if you don't want to bother eyeballing the space we need to find furnishings for. Kids these days... bad enough, but kids from the not-too-terribly-far future? Augh, so impatient."

Hiro lets out a breath he hadn't been conscious of holding -- he doesn't want to tiptoe around the facts, but at the same time, he can't stand any more sympathy. Not yet. Plus she's walking towards the rest of the mysterious apartment, perhaps towards where she grows the soap trees.

This next comment make him falter a little, this time in surprise. "Space? I thought, uh...I thought. Um. The couch is okay, really." NOW he gets manners, jeez.

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