ax_main | Warren and Tessa | Backdated to 16/09

A few vodkas and dances in, Warren did his rounds and then noticed he was... out of vodka again. Bad news. He turned in the direction of the libations and there, near the beautiful food spread, stood Tessa. Still.

With her clipboard. Still.

Warren grinned and approached. "Hey, Tessa! Food still... you know? Doing the food thing? Being delicious and stuff?"

Glancing up from the notes she had made so far on the clipboard, Tessa regarded Warren seriously. "The refreshments and comestibles prepared for this engagement appear to have been received with satisfaction by those inclined to partake of them," she said. "I suppose that would be as much 'the food thing' as one could reasonably hope."

Warren nodded seriously. "Yeah, that's the thing I meant. And--interesting thing about food: it'll keep doing that even if you're not here to watch it. What are you checking off on that board? When we run low on something?"

"That is one of the variables I am presently tracking," the psion affirmed with an inclination of her head. "I am also recording which students show a particular predilection for specific offerings at the refreshment table--which snacks are revisited most frequently, and which beverages have so far proven the most popular. That data will be useful, I think, when next we have occasion to plan such an event; it will be much simpler to tailor the food and drink available to the students' real tastes."

Warren wasn't drunk enough to think that's all there was to it--the second he knew she was into gathering info on her fellow students, Warren started to think of Tessa as a corporate spy of sorts, but one that was potentially on his side. That didn't mean it wasn't nice that she even thought of that, though. "I'm sure that'll be super appreciated--especially by the kids with restricted diets." Warren knew jack shit about being vegan or keeping kosher, but he was glad to know Tessa was on it. Everyone should feel super welcome, since that was the whole point. "But do you have enough preliminary data to take a little break, maybe? Join me for a drink? A dance? One or both?"

"A small break would, I suppose, present only a minor impediment to my research," Tessa allowed with a barely-there smile. "However, I would advise you that I have very little experience of dancing. I cannot guarantee that I would make a suitably engaging partner for such an activity." She left the matter of whether she would take a drink with him or not up in the air, for the moment.

"First of all, I'm a white boy and I dance like one," Warren assured her. "Second, you're gorgeous. You could just stand there being gorgeous and you'd still be great out there."

"You overstate both my physical appeal and your lack of familiarity with dance," she told him flatly, though her cheeks may have faintly colored. "Still, if you would not find it excessively objectionable, I can find no reason to decline."

Warren set aside his drink and held out one hand. "I definitely am. It overstating your appeal, but I hope you're right about the first thing. Thanks for not declining. Shall we?"

Lips quirking at the corners in a somewhat indulgent smile, Tessa set her clipboard on the edge of the refreshment table and accepted Warren's hand. "If you are certain of this course of action. I can only advise you so far."

Warren barely bit down on a crack about how special he felt that she'd leave her clipboard for him. Too much. Instead, he led her to the floor and moved in closer, so there was only about a foot between them, and settled a hand on her hip while he started moving his. "Listen to much P!nk?"

She placed her hands on his shoulders, just at the base of his neck, and began mimicking his movements to the best of her abilities--which, by virtue of her mutation, was virtually flawless. At his inquiry, Tessa shook her head. "I have only recently begun to acquaint myself with Western musical forms," she told him. "And I thought it fitting to begin with the oldest examples which can still be accurately reproduced. I have found myself quite taken with the Baroque composers--particularly Bach. It has been difficult to move on to more modern permutations."

"Bach is like a computer wrote music," Warren said before he could stop himself. Then he realized it was Tessa, and she probably wouldn't take it as an insult--which it wasn't, actually, just an observation. Hell, it was kinda nice to talk to someone who knew that, even. Usually he pretended he didn't. Just because... weird. "But in a good way. A computer who knew what humans wanted."

She nodded. "I enjoy his compositions for precisely that reason--they are ... exact, in a way few others have replicated." They took a turn around the improvised dance floor before she added, "I was not aware you had any predisposition toward the classics." Her observations had suggested he was entirely modern in his tastes. In that sense, the revelation was an interesting one.

"Eh, Carnegie Hall is a must when you come from pretend-old-money. Not to mention La Scala, the Royal Albert, etc." Warren kept his hips moving, but refrained from the white boy bounce for the moment. The conversation was too interesting. "But I gotta admit, I lean toward the Romantics. I'm pretty post-Beethoven, so in a way you got me figured out."

"Not so much as I originally thought. But it is always worthwhile to acquire new data regarding my fellow students." She continued to move with Warren, regarding him with her usual, clinical expression. "I thank you for affording me this opportunity to deepen our acquaintance. Is there anything else you would like to ask?" The exchange of information, after all, should go both ways. Friendly relations were best enhanced through reciprocity.

"Uh, yeah," Warren said, pleasantly surprised. "Do you have family? Here? In Afghanistan?"

Her expression did not change; she did not so much as blink at the question. "No. To the best of my knowledge, my family was exterminated when I was little more than a toddler. However, as the events occurred prior to the manifestation of my powers, I cannot recall them with absolute clarity."

"Sucks." Warren frowned, wondering why he'd even asked when he'd expected expected a no. Idiot. Not enough of an idiot to ask about 'exterminated'--he'd just do some research on Afghanistan later. "Sorry to hear it, but glad you can't remember it."

His wings fluttered with realization. "Wait. Your powers work with your memory too?"

The topic did not seem to perturb Tessa unduly; then again, there were few things that made any obvious impression on her typically stoic comportment. But she did not hesitate when their conversation abruptly shifted to the nature of her gifts. She nodded, saying, "That is correct. I remember everything I experience, and can recall it with perfect clarity. For example, having traversed the grounds of the Institute once, I could move between any two locations enclosed within the school's walls using only muscle memory." After a brief consideration, she added, "Presuming no new obstacles had been placed to barricade my original route."

"Every time I talk to you it's like--I learn stuff that sort of explains you, but also just makes you more mysterious," Warren said with a chuckle. He placed a hand at her hip and moved closer for a second, then back out. Mixing it up, white boy style.

After a moment, Tessa mimicked the motion, moving in, then back away again. "Is that not the way of most human relationships? Or can you say you have a perfect understanding of any particular individual?" The question was less accusing than it was simply curious, as with most of the psion's inquiries.

"That's a good point," Warren allowed, enjoying watching her move. It made sense she picked up so fast, now--he just hoped she danced with someone better than him before the night was out, too. "But let's just say with you it tends to be a little more... remarkable stuff."

She hummed faintly, continuing to follow his lead and mimic his movements when they changed. "You flatter me," Tessa said at last. "I am not remarkable; I am the logical end-point of my experiences, as filtered through the unique lens of my abilities. There is nothing particularly laudable in that."

"Not unless your unique abilities are particularly interesting," Warren reasoned. Look, he'd been drinking a little, he wasn't super deep right then. "Not to mention your experiences."

"Not so interesting as all that, I think," she said, giving his wings a meaningful look. "Not compared to the abilities of certain others I could name. And all human experiences have value; it is unfortunate that the relatively brief time we are allotted to assimilate them makes it impossible to live them all."

"Yeah," Warren said thoughtfully. "Does explain the appeal of reincarnation as a concept, doesn't it?"

"I think basic human vanity sufficient explanation for the need to believe that some part of ourselves survives after death," she replied, his thoughtfulness giving her sufficient cause to consider the question with greater attention than she would otherwise afford such a topic; she certainly did not wish to appear dismissive. "Even if it is merely one's virtue--or lack thereof. I have not studied the concept in any great depth, however, and would not claim to be an expert."

Well, it sounded good to Warren, anyhow. Not that he was much for spirituality... which was kinda funny, given the wings. "Sounds about right, though," he admitted. "So, you're an atheist?"

"I have never given the belief structures in question sufficient consideration to commit to any specific stance," she admitted with a small shrug. "But I have no evidence to support the position that any element of human consciousness or experience survives the expiration of the physical vessel. That in itself, however, is no logical basis upon which to dismiss the possibility altogether. I suppose my analysis could best be described as skeptical, but not completely unreceptive of the prospect."

Her face tilted to one side inquisitively. "Is such conversation typical of the kind you engage in with your dance partners?"

"No. This has literally never happened," Warren said with a chuckle. "But again, makes it more interesting." He bumped her hip with his.

"I would speculate it has never happened because the purpose of this activity is not to stimulate intellectual discussion," she said. "But I am pleased to have held your interest."

"Everything about you holds my interest," Warren said with a laugh. "And I'm vain enough to assume that even if I'm not the best conversationalist and dancer, hey, I'm not bad looking. That's worth something."

She appeared to consider that, then, "You are better at conversation and dance than you imagine, I suspect. Though," she added, "I suppose that last attribute isn't entirely without value, either."

"It's worked out for me so far," Warren said with a wink.