Bolton's Office Hours

[theoverseers]

[Want to chat with Bolton privately? Here is where you do it! Bolton's office hours will be held in conference room B in the library for approximately four hours in the morning several days a week. During that time the blinds will be drawn and that room will be off-limits unless you're there to talk to Bolton, though the other three study rooms will still be available for use.


Comments are screened for privacy.]

Comments

Week 5, Sunday

[cyan_maid]

[The knock on Bolton's office door is sharp and quick, not accompanied by any voice or request to come in. If there's no response, it will sound one more time before the other party gives up, so...how prompt are you in answering your door, mister?]

[theoverseers]

[In getting up and going to it? Not always the fastest. But he's pretty quick to call back:]

Come in!

[cyan_maid]

[A call back is all she needs.

Jane enters quietly, closing the door behind her. She doesn't move to sit down, or anything - instead, she glances around to get an idea of how Bolton keeps his office before meeting the man's eyes.

And...

...Doesn't say anything. Jane just...stares at Bolton. Quietly. Intensely. It'd be intimidating if she also wasn't a teenage girl with a still-blotchy face from yesterday's crying and whatever emotions her recent memory had given her.]

[theoverseers]

[There's a French Press that's still about 3/4 full on the table, next to some paper towels, a little ceramic bottle of cream held in ice, a sugar bowl, and two cups - Bolton's and an empty one that's still upside-down. He's sitting in the seat in front of the blackboard, and when she comes in he lowers the book that he's reading to his lap, splayed open and upside down to hold his place.]

What's up, Miss Crocker?

[cyan_maid]

[Her eyes flicker to the book for a moment - out of curiosity, what is Bolton reading? - before she looks back up at him.]

...Where are the bodies of the victims kept?

[The PIP surely won't let her, but...the Lifey Thing is still in her. It always has been - she just didn't know it. But now that she does, she can't get it out of her mind. She's a God Tier. She has the power. She should use it, even if it can only bring back a few of the people who were here, even if...]

[theoverseers]

[Today? The Lathe of Heaven.]

All bodies are cremated and removed from the space station for sanitation reasons.

[cyan_maid]

[The only outward indication of her sinking heart is that her hands, clasped in front of her, begin to shake.]

...You all really did your homework on all of us, didn't you?

[theoverseers]

Your extended profiles were very extensive.

...You need a whole body, don't you.

[cyan_maid]

[Jane stiffens a bit.]

...I can't make one out of nothing. I could - reattach limbs, if...that's part of the problem...[The problem being "death", see [S]: Collide] Knit flesh together...probably excise a disease...

[If it's a death, and it's just the one time, she can reverse it. But no one here is exactly a phoenix.]

[theoverseers]

Since you're not the Champion of Life, I don't know if the PIP would let you...

[He looks pained, like he's debating on something.]

Who have you gotten closest to?

[cyan_maid]

[...

Too many names want to be said, but Jane holds them in tightly.]

Why...do you ask that? I-I don't want to know if there's some - some kind of system here where your bosses pick and choose which of us are going to kill each other, I won't - I won't participate in anything like that!

[Now she's actually getting upset, tears quick to flow. Wrong question, Bolton.]

[theoverseers]

What- no, that's not how it works--

[But you said excise disease and he thought...]

Okay then let me ask this- do your powers work at all on the living?

[cyan_maid]

[Don't you think she's been thinking that too, amongst everything else? She lets him speak, takes a breath.]

...No. Just - just the dead. It's not like...healing something. It's revival. And if that means someone's gotten their head cut off or couldn't fight off a plague, then I can - I think I can fix that, but I can't take away someone's cold, or - or -

[The tears are coming faster now. Jane grits her teeth, both palms coming up to wipe them away frantically.]

[theoverseers]

[Well what the shit kind of loophole is that this is why you're not the Champion of Life, Jane.

He gets up from his seat (setting his book on the table) and offers her a mustard-yellow handkerchief.]

I'm sorry.

[cyan_maid]

[No fucking shit.

After a moment, she hesitantly takes the handkerchief, using it to dab at the corners of her eyes.]

God - I'm sorry, I - I wasn't coming in here to cry. I-I'm more angry than anything right now...

[Mostly at herself.]

[theoverseers]

You're okay, it's no problem.

[Now that she's calming down some, he leans against the table.]

Sometimes those two things go hand in hand.

[cyan_maid]

[She takes a deep, slow breath. Considers blowing her nose with the hankie...then reconsiders it. She's happy to troll Bolton, but not to give him a snotty hankie.]

T-That's all I've been feeling, I'll have you know...either angry or sad...a-and you know, don't you? About our memories...[Another sniff.]

[theoverseers]

[Honestly, he'll take the snotty hanky if that's what she wants to do.]

Yeah, I do. Jesus, when I was your age I was buying a fake ID and running off to Vegas to make bad life choices once a month, not... everything you've been through.

Though I was friends with my share of obtuse jackasses, boys at least never change.

[cyan_maid]

[Hey, she's not heartless.

She snorts once, wiping her eyes again for good measure before folding the hanky up into a square.]

No...no, they don't. Not ever. [A beat.] But, Vegas...so...you're from Earth, too. Or an Earth.

[theoverseers]

[See there you go he can be funny when he's not encouraging murder.]

You got me. I'm definitely not an alien wearing human skin.

[He grins.]

Or am I?

[cyan_maid]

[She'd roll her eyes if she were in better spirits.]

Whether you are or not - that's not up to me to theorize. Goodness, I am tired of aliens...

[theoverseers]

How have you not seen the summer blockbuster Men in Black? I mean, there's a dearth of mustaches but those suits are pret-ty sharp.

[But he gives her a more serious answer, too.]

...Can't blame you there. Just reading your file was exhausting.

[cyan_maid]

[She'd say yes, but it's likely that that, amongst most of the movies she's ever seen, were part of impromptu streamed movie marathons during better times.]

...Who compiles these files, anyway? Not...not anyone perverted, or...someone I'd unfortunately know...

[Is Caliborn providing you intel with his supposed screens and keys?]

[theoverseers]

[it takes him a second, but then he gets it.]

Hah, no, these files are just objective reports - like an analysis of a movie or something, not the ravings of a 13-year-old pissant with a god complex.

[cyan_maid]

Oh, thank God...

[So it's cold, calculating, and still creepy, but Lord English a certain shithead has nothing to do with it. Bless.]

I think I'd just about blow my stack if he was involved.