11.23.3013: Sibling Workday
Summary: Rook and Lincoln work on repairing an old stove that they fished from the trash.
Date: 12 October 2013
Related: None
Ithaca Lincoln 


Ithaca's Apartment — Blue District, The Ring
The door of this musty, basement apartment bears several chains across the spanalong with multiple locks, electronic and mundane. Inside it is almost empty, Spartan to an extreme. There's just one, windowless, main room serving as the entire living space, and a small bathroom. The bedroom consists of a mattress on the floor in one corner. The kitchen is nothing but a counter with a small sink, microwave, mini fridge/freezer, hot plate, and electric crockpot

Along one wall rests a small tattered loveseat and a coffee table which looks to be an old trunk of some sort. The rest of the space is taken up by computer equipment, resting on scratched up Plexiglas sheets propped on rusted old filing cabinets, stools, chairs, anything that could be used to support the flat surfaces. The walls are plastered with page upon page of code and mathematical calculations.

23 November 3013

Lincoln got the message from Rook and is now outside her door, two bags in his arms filled with what looks like food, again. He dressed in crap clothes, so he could help as much s he can with the stove. It probably means he'll just hand her tools, but still. these bags aren't quite as heavy, so he's able to maneuver them to knock and then use the key card to get in. "Hey Ithaca, It's me."

Rook opens the door and she looks like a grease monkey. Her t-shirt is smudged with dirt, as is her face, and her shorts that are two sizes too big on her. She has a tool in one hand and a small smile for her brother. "Hey," she greets, holding the door for him to come through. Scattered across her main room floor are about a million parts and the shell of an electric cooktop/oven combination.

Lincoln groans slightly when he sees the mess, but it's mostly in jest, "I hate puzzles…" He'll watch where he steps and will go to set the bags in the kitchen. "Not that I'm gonna question your smarts there, sis, but you're not gonna blow us both up, right?" The beer is moved to the small fridge, along with what looks like a squirt bottle of some kind of syrup(It's caramel). A few other food items for in the empty shelves, box of crackers, small bag of apples. There's still other things in the bags, but he leaves them for now. Looking back at the mess, "What can I do? Or am I just here for moral support?"

"No boom today, boom tomorrow. Always boom tomorrow," Rook quips, and may be quoting one of her favorite sci-fi show heroines. "Can help me clean off the parts," she requests. There is a box of shop rags and some degreaser and regular cleaners on the floor. One pile of parts looks shiny, so the rest must still need cleaning.

Rook's words are not very comforting, but he'll nod. he'd prefer no booms. "I can do that. His legs fold rather gracefully and he'll end up sitting indian style before reaching for a rag, "So…what's new?" He'll grab a part and start wiping. Linc's nails look like they may have been recently manicured, but he's not giving it much mind as he gets dirty almost immediately.

Rook's nails look like she's never had a manicure. Ever. She shrugs at the question. "Other than stove? Not much. Just work." She hasn't left her place much since they got back from Obsidia. "You?"

Lincoln shrugs, "The stove's a good thing. You'll like having it. " Well, he'll like having ti when he comes over, anyway. "I not too much. Went on a date…sorta. it was rather impromptu, but nice. Been working a lot. Running lines for the play, stuff like that." He'll watch Ithaca a moment, almost like he's evaluating how skinny she is, "I didn't bring a lot, but i can make food later, if you want. You still having to crash ate the clinic?"

Rook meticulously cleans each part, setting it into the clean pile when finished. It looks like she spent some funds on new wiring at least, since the old was really shot. She shakes her head. "No more clinic. Clean." She arches a brow and looks up at him curiously. "Date?" she asks. Yeah, he's not getting out of that one without details.

Lincoln grins,proud of her, "That's crackerjack. Glad I brought the beers then!" He'll set a clean piece in the pile, and shrugs, "Yeah….I don't usually get actual dates, ya know? People generally freak when they learn my profession, or try to act like it doesn't voter them, and over compensate and it gets weird. Beden was…he's cool." Another shrug as he grabs the next piece, "It can't be anything more then casual dating, but it's still nice."

"No such thing," Rook says with a sigh. "Casual doesn't work. One night stands, fine. Casual just hurts after a while," she notes, setting another piece on the clean pile and pulling a clean rag from the box. "Just be careful."

It takes Linc a moment, then he realizes the reason for the sigh, "He's…Of course casual doesn't work long term. But with my profession, and his title won't really allow for that." He'll smirk up at her, trying to lighten the mood, "I'm not really a settle down kinda guy, anyway." He'll snort, "Could you imagine me kissing someone good night to go off to work at the brothel? Not too many that would be ok with that, I would think." Shaking his head, he'll work on the random piece in his hands.

"Don't have to work there forever," Rook points out. "Become actor. Settle down." She gives him a wistful little smile. "Make babies."

Lincoln tilts his head, lifting an eyebrow, "You do realize I could absolutely suck at acting." He'll chuckle, wiping the edge of some piece. "Babies? Yikes…that's terrifying…No woman in there right mind would want that." He seems amused at the idea.

"Believe you suck when I see it," Rook points out. He's her brother, he gets the benefit of the doubt where his talent is concerned. Especially as she clearly got all the electronics knowledge between them. She frowns a little at his secondary comment. "I wanted a baby," she says a little flatly.

Lincoln laughs, "I meant what woman would want a baby with me. I could dig being a uncle though… You're like 30, right? You still have time to have a baby." He'll stretch , "want a beer?"

Rook shrugs. "Dunno. Never had birthdays. Under 30 I think, though." She nods at the beer question. "Don't think I'll get that close to someone again. So probably no kids."

Lincoln stands, moving to the fridge, "Well…pick a date. It'll be your new birthday. We'll have cake and I'll buy you some lame gift that you have to keep." He'll grin, grabbing two beers and making his way back. "Who says you have to be close to someone top have kids?" He'll wiggle his eyebrows, "Six knows we know that it doesn't take two, beyond the making." He'll open a beer and hand it to her, "Not that I think you need to jump into that. Make sure the docs think it's safe, but yeah. Fuck fathers. who needs 'em?"

Rook shakes her head a little. "Wanted a child because I loved him. Wanted a part of him made with a part of me." She looks over at her computer setup and wipes her hands on a rag, rising to tap in a random date generator on the machine. It spits out a final choice. "May 9th."

Lincoln nods, opening his own beer, "So…Not so much wanted to be a mother then…" He's not being judgmental, just wrapping his mind around it. Even when he did love someone, he never wanted a kid. He'll grin at the date, "May 9th sounds great. That gives me plenty of time to plan something completely embarrassing." He'll take a swing, "I'll need to get paper hats and matching plates. I think pink." He's grinning and will sit down to work wiping more parts.

"Wanted to be a mother, better than mine. Especially because I'm the last of," Rook trails off and shakes her head. "No more Blacks from Nysa's side. No legacy." She settles back down taking up her beer to sip.

Lincoln frowns slightly, listening to her words, "Then… adopt or something. Blood's important, but…so is just being there for someone, ya know?" He'll shrug, sipping his beer, "I mean, You're important. But so is Ren, he's family too. And he's not blood." The whole legacy concept is something Linc's never truly gotten. Maybe it's because he's always known he'd not have a kid, continue on the name and all that jazz.

"I think it might be important," Rook says quietly. She doesn't explain why, because she's not ready to talk about Sarah, but she seems sincere. She cleans the last piece in front of her and pulls open a toolbox so she can start fitting pieces together. "Almost punched Ren." He flirted on that mission.

Lincoln asks, "why?" Linc's a bit confused, cause why would that be important? With a snort, he'll shake his head, "Ren's harmless. He talks when he's nervous. The whole set up was…yeah. He was on edge."

"Keep a secret? Important, very. Only a few people know and they knew before I did." Rook looks very serious as she assembles the wiring for the burners.

Lincoln frowns, suddenly worried as she was just talking about babies.The clinic comes to mind… Lincoln nod, "Yeah…You can tell me anything. It's kinda part of my job, to keep secrets." A imagine of Klaudea goes through Lincs's mind and he'll shake that away. He has enough to fix with Rook right now. His eyes go to her fingers, messing with the wires.

"You know they have a captive Hostile, right?" Rook asks, as it was in the news and passed about by all the rumor mongers.

Lincoln blinks, and will turn to look at her, "What?" He's suddenly nervous, unsure what Rook knows. "Uh…Yeah?"

Rook takes in a steadying breath. "The Hostile, Sarah 113 of 158, is one of 158 identical models, made from the DNA of Sarah Owens, my 20 times great grandma, from Fifth world." She winces a little, expecting a freakout. "Only living descendant left."

Fuck. This is not good. Lincoln's face stills, "You're…related to it?" He'll close his eyes, running a hand over his face, unintentionally smudging dirt on his cheek, "Oh fuck, Ithaca…that's….bad." He sounds freaked out, although not for the reason he's thinking.

"Not bad, just weird." Rook shrugs. "She's just DNA, none of Sarah's memory or feelings or personality. But maybe, somewhere in that DNA, there is connection." She tries to express herself. "Maybe if they realize they have family they won't want us to all die."

Lincoln's face hardens, "No Ithacca, it's bad. Lucian's interested in her. He has feelers out about that whole mess. He's trying to find anything he can out about the it." He doesn't look happy at all. The beer in his hand is set down and he'll eye Ithaca, unsure what to do.

"No one will tell him. The people who know won't tell, I don't think," Rook says softly. She's quickly assembling pieces, putting them back together by memory. "He's never met me in person," she points out. "DOn't tell Ren."

Lincoln's frown stays, "Just…be careful. Have a contingency plan. He's gonna find out." He'll blink, how has he met Johnny and she hasn't? She way up on the important scale…he's not. He'll roll his eyes, "Well…yeah. Ren's not…He's Lucian's man, no doubt. They have history." He'll sigh, he hates keeping secrets from those he cares about.

Most likely because Rook is entirely anti-social and her skill don't require her physical presence. She shrugs. "Deal with it when we have to. But that's how I know I'm the only descendant of Sarah Owens. So don't want to be the very last."

Lincoln just nods slowly, although his mood is now mellowed from the happy when he walked in. "ok…" It' not, but what can he do? He'll help with as much of the stove as he can, but it's mostly him handing her stuff, or a beer. when he leaves, the two bags are left. There's a new blanket in one and two new towels in the other. Looks like he's going to help her with little things, one bag at a time.

By the time he leaves, the stove is mostly together save for a few parts she needs real replacements for. Rook cuddles up with her new blanket for the night, pondering the discussions they had, and whether Gentleman Johnny will come looking for her.

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