Agent Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vengefulagent) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
realityshifted2015-01-12 08:46 pm
vengefulagent) wrote in realityshifted2015-01-12 08:46 pm
Entry tags:
♖ 9
The snow's still here?! Seriously?!
[That's the very brilliant exclamation and observation from Agent Washington as he stares at the white stuff on the ground. He just wanted to go Eithan's house, get a drink--and hopefully run into the man himself. Wash has something very important to talk to him about, especially with his surgery coming up in a couple days. That's it. But now, he's gonna have to make sure to dry off his armor before he goes back, and take the proper rust prevention precautions. He grumbles and starts to run down the procedure in his head, helmet tucked under his arm as he starts trudging through it, his feet sinking practically down through what must be at least six inches of snow.]
At least it's not snowing more, but...this doesn't seem to be melting. [He sighs. This brings back some early training day memories. He did well enough, but until the grappling hook incident, a couple other fresh and young agents knew him for sliding down a hundred food snowy slope on his ass into the middle of a pack of sim troopers. Nothing gets one to learn cold weather combat techniques faster than wanting to avoid that kind of thing again. Still doesn't mean he has to be fond of snow.] Great.
[Continuing forward across the Plane, he tries to ignore the cold biting at his nose and ears, but after a moment, he grumbles and starts to put on his helmet--but before it's even over his head, something happens. He doesn't know how or why, but he suddenly finds himself having a really close look at the inside of his helmet, coupled with a plummeting feeling as the cold hits all over his body--and then he's in the snow, his face pressed against something vaguely soft.]
What the he--! [But he stops himself right there. That voice. Was that his voice?? Did something on the Plane shrink him? He can smell his shampoo and sweat from the helmet lining, so he must be inside, but how? He struggles to move, but things don't feel right. Not at all. And goddamn is he cold, no thanks to the snow. He tries to move and stretch his arms, realizing they've been tucked up against his body, and finds that they move weirdly.]
[Then he realizes why. He turns his head, seeing that his nose, in addition to being longer, has turned from a pink to a grayish-yellow. And he notices that he's clinging to the inner lining with a claw...] What the fuck? [Yep, that squeaky, high-pitched voice is his. His heart is positively racing in his chest and he begins to flail around under the helmet, snow immediately flying around as he tries to get out from under it.]
What the fuck did they change me into this time?! [At some point in all his flailing, he manages to kick his helmet radio on, so even if people aren't around to see a random steel and yellow helmet in the snow, they'll hear some very squeaky cursing over the radio...]
[ooc: Unfortunately for Wash, this isn't an experiment.]
[That's the very brilliant exclamation and observation from Agent Washington as he stares at the white stuff on the ground. He just wanted to go Eithan's house, get a drink--and hopefully run into the man himself. Wash has something very important to talk to him about, especially with his surgery coming up in a couple days. That's it. But now, he's gonna have to make sure to dry off his armor before he goes back, and take the proper rust prevention precautions. He grumbles and starts to run down the procedure in his head, helmet tucked under his arm as he starts trudging through it, his feet sinking practically down through what must be at least six inches of snow.]
At least it's not snowing more, but...this doesn't seem to be melting. [He sighs. This brings back some early training day memories. He did well enough, but until the grappling hook incident, a couple other fresh and young agents knew him for sliding down a hundred food snowy slope on his ass into the middle of a pack of sim troopers. Nothing gets one to learn cold weather combat techniques faster than wanting to avoid that kind of thing again. Still doesn't mean he has to be fond of snow.] Great.
[Continuing forward across the Plane, he tries to ignore the cold biting at his nose and ears, but after a moment, he grumbles and starts to put on his helmet--but before it's even over his head, something happens. He doesn't know how or why, but he suddenly finds himself having a really close look at the inside of his helmet, coupled with a plummeting feeling as the cold hits all over his body--and then he's in the snow, his face pressed against something vaguely soft.]
What the he--! [But he stops himself right there. That voice. Was that his voice?? Did something on the Plane shrink him? He can smell his shampoo and sweat from the helmet lining, so he must be inside, but how? He struggles to move, but things don't feel right. Not at all. And goddamn is he cold, no thanks to the snow. He tries to move and stretch his arms, realizing they've been tucked up against his body, and finds that they move weirdly.]
[Then he realizes why. He turns his head, seeing that his nose, in addition to being longer, has turned from a pink to a grayish-yellow. And he notices that he's clinging to the inner lining with a claw...] What the fuck? [Yep, that squeaky, high-pitched voice is his. His heart is positively racing in his chest and he begins to flail around under the helmet, snow immediately flying around as he tries to get out from under it.]
What the fuck did they change me into this time?! [At some point in all his flailing, he manages to kick his helmet radio on, so even if people aren't around to see a random steel and yellow helmet in the snow, they'll hear some very squeaky cursing over the radio...]
[ooc: Unfortunately for Wash, this isn't an experiment.]
no subject
[but even though she was expecting some sort of experiment, her shrunken soldier theory was wrong, so lifting the helmet to see a bat is still a surprise. she gapes at the creature]
...Agent? That you?
no subject
[He nods, looking up at her with his blue eyes.] Yeah, it's...it's me. [He tries to keep his composure, but that lasts all of a second.] I don't know how it happened! I was on my way to get something to eat--[Which is partially the truth]--when this happened and I was trapped under my damn helmet! [His voice is even higher as he vocally and physically flails. If she's doubting his story at all, his bootprints in the snow will corroborate his story.]
no subject
[the question, of course, is what to do now. seeing him shaking gives her one idea, though. not really sure how to offer to carry a bat because, well, she definitely doesn't want to put it in those terms, she tries:] Did you...need a lift to the kitchen? [but eyeing those wings, she adds more out of curiosity than expectation:] Can you actually fly like that?
no subject
I...[He actually wants to get blood from Eithan's house (since it's closer than the mansion, currently), but he remembers her expressions from the last time he ate lunch with her.]...sure, just anywhere that's warm.
[But then she asks that and he looks at curiously, blinking as he thinks.] You know...I probably could. But I don't...hmm. [He wonders if it'd be a better idea to try it in someplace warm, but the kitchen floor wouldn't be the best of places to land if he can't manage to fly. The snow would cushion him some--he knows this already--but it's also cold...] I'll...figure that out later.
no subject
no subject
You're...uh. Warm. [Articulate as ever, but he's actually just realized what he's leaning against and hope she doesn't mind him being this close to her breast.] Um...thank you, Patricia.
no subject
[she walks briskly toward the kitchen, still not wanting to have him out in the cold any more than necessary. as she goes, though, she asks curiously:] What do bats eat, anyway? We'll 'ave to see what we can find.
no subject
Hmm? [Yeah, he got a little sleepy getting all warm.] Oh, um...I don't know? Fruits and bugs, maybe? But I...don't want to eat bugs. Maybe grapes will work? [He doesn't add that the other hunger is there (so changing form didn't do a damn thing to curb it), but that's under control. He still doesn't quite appreciate the irony of his change, though.]
no subject
Okay, 'ere we are. [she steps over to the table, pulling her arm out of her coat to let him off it]
no subject
[He takes the cue to hop out and sort of flies out of her coat and lands on the table with the grace akin to a cat that's forgotten how to land on its feet properly. He shakes his a couple times to get rid of the stars he sees swimming in his vision.] Okay, that...could've gone better. I'll probably need some practice. Maybe there's a cushion around here I can land on... [He doesn't want to ask her to get one from the mansion or the hot springs just for this testing purpose.]
no subject
[and she removes her coat, hanging it over a chair. then she heads over to the refrigerator, peering in at the fruit selection] You're in luck! Green grapes. [she grabs a bunch, taking them over to the sink to rinse them before she brings them to the table and sets them out on a plate] There. See if that works.
[that done, she returns to the fridge to get an apple for herself]
no subject
[He takes a few moments to play around with his limbs and mobilty while she's occupied with searching the fridge. His little bat feet are weird to walk in, but on a flat (and not snowy) surface, it's all right. The wings, though... He flexes and stretches them, then folds them in when he sees her coming back.]
Thanks. I don't see why they wouldn't work. [He steps up onto the plate--he's sure that once someone's a bat, table manners can go out the window. But now comes the obstacle of how to eat a grape without real hands. He frowns, his ears turning back in uncertainty (and listening to everything else around him), and reaches out with his hand to grab one but doesn't quite manage it. Instead, he leans down and uses his wing to move it closer and then he bites it. His mouth barely gets around the grape, but he's glad he thought to use his wing to keep it from rolling away. And admittedly, it takes him a good minute to finish the one grape.]
Um. Sorry if that was noisy.
no subject
[she drops from the Plane, leaving him to eat for a few minutes in peace. but she returns shortly afterwards with a slightly threadbare cushion from her well-used sofa. she drops it on the ground next to the table] Just let me know when you're done with it, and I'll send it back to Manchester.
no subject
Thanks. [He hops off the plate and makes his way over to the edge of the table to see where the cushion is. He doesn't know how long he's going to be like this, but he might as well figure out how this little body of his works.] Let's see how this goes.
[Slowly, he extends his wings, seeing how far they reach now that he's not trapped in a helmet. He's not sure if it's an impressive span or not, not having any prior knowledge about bats. Then he takes a breath, then begins to flap and lets himself go up in the air and he starts to fly around. The sensation is so weird but he can't help letting out a whoop of laughter as he flits about the room.] This is so much better than jetpacking!
[And so her gesture of kindness isn't wasted, he slows down and aims to land on the cushion--and almost misses. He bounces on it, and almost bounces off but his back claws cling to the material and stops himself sufficiently.] Okay...the landing needs work. Patricia, if only you could try this! [He actually looks pretty happy and excited as he looks up at her.]
no subject
[she snorts--both at his excitement and his comment] Ah, no. I think I'm fine without. [because however amazing that might feel, she doesn't want to imagine being transformed into an animal in order to experience it]
Just try not to destroy the cushion if you can avoid it, all right? [she gestures at it] That said, should I, ah, leave you two alone? [she smirks]
no subject
[He flies up to the counter, landing a little better this time.] But no, please...stay. For a little longer anyway. I just wish I knew how to change back. I'm supposed to get surgery soon, and turning into a bat isn't how I expected to spend my last few days of non-AI time.
no subject
[his request for her to stay catches her by surprise, though] ...all right. [she's not really sure what he's hoping for, and she's afraid that if he's looking for some sort of comfort, she won't be able to give it. but still, staying in the kitchen for a bit sounds simple enough] But you do know most experiments just take time, don't you? It should go away on its own.
[her eyes widen at his mention of surgery] Wait--you're getting one now, too?
no subject
[But in the meantime, he folds his wings in and sits, taking a break from flying.] Yeah, it's part of the program. People like North and York just happened to be at the top of the list. I'm pretty high up there too, and actually should have had mine already, but...there were issues back home. So I've had to wait.
But um...I'm not sure how well that's going to go... I have to have my helmet off for the surgery and all, and...well. The fangs don't exactly go away.
no subject
no subject
[Come on, Menzies, this is Wash. Does he look like the practical joker type?]
That's why I need to see Eithan... Maybe...maybe he has something I can use to temporarily disguise them.
no subject
[she pauses, thoughtful] Look, I can't think of anything offhand, but I can run it by my contacts, see if they've got any ideas for 'iding specific marks.
no subject
[He glances up at her, surprised by this offer.] Really? You'd do that for me?
no subject
no subject
no subject