outer_divide | [Video | Thursday afternoon]

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[Video | Thursday afternoon]

[The werewolf on the screen this afternoon is a little more mussed than usual, and a little less affable than usual. In fact, he looks as if he may be both frustrated and a little scuffed up-- his cravat is definitely a bit askew, his jacket actually a little rumpled, and there's just a little bit of mud on his elbow.

And this is after he's already cleaned off a bit.

The background is of the Old City military base, in the distance, with the overhanging clouds but thankfully no rain. Right now, anyway.]

Pardon, but... is there anyone who is not too terribly busy at the moment who might have the time, and disposition, to come demonstrate just how one rides one of these two-wheeled motorized contraptions? I appear to be... having a spot of difficulty.

[He's sure someone is going to make fun of him for this... but it's better to have it be one of them, who understand his temporal differences from most of them, than one of the soldiers who don't.]

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[This isn't her first rodeo when it comes to alternate worlds and crazy time travel. She's not gonna say anything. She might giggle a little, though.]

Motorbike givin' yah trouble, huh, mack? They can be nasty little pains in the butt, but there's nothin' that goes on a street that I can't ride.

It is reassuring that someone can master these things.

[His tone is a little dry, there. He knows people can, and have; he just hasn't yet....]

The question then, I suppose, is whether or not you can teach.

...Okay, in point of fact my husband can't drive after more than ten years. But I'm pretty sure he tries hard to be that crash-prone. I did used to give tips to the younger drivers when I drove a cab.

[Usually in the form of shouting. But.]

[That doesn't sound encouraging, but Lyall is getting mostly teasing from other quarters, so....]

Then if you can get out to the Old City, or you're already here, then I suppose we might as well make the attempt. Can you meet me here?

[He turns the camera away to show where he's at, just beyond the edge of the military town, along the road back to Poseidon.]

Bit of a schlep, but I'm outside the city a lot anyways. I'll consider it a public service. Don't want one'a those little monsters plowin' into anything delicate.

Thankfully, plowing into things hasn't been my problem thus far. I appreciate your help, miss.

[And he'll wait. He's not going to even try to ride the damn thing again, though, he's just going to sit in the shade, avoiding even the dim sunlight, and try not to glare at the thing.]

Sure thing.

[She won't correct the "miss" just now.

Kit makes it as soon as she can, which takes a while. She doesn't have wheels of her own yet, and she's already decided to do this as Kit, not the squirrel. It slims down her options a bit. But she hitches a ride eventually.]

Hi there.

Good afternoon.

[He doffs his hat to her with a slight, polite bow. The motorbike is off to one side, on its kickstand, waiting patiently for him to fall over on it again.]

Randolph Lyall. I don't believe we have been introduced.

[She's been bowed to before, but generally by old men of wealth and industry who occasionally forget what year it is. She manages not to laugh, at least.

Kit has switched out her usual attempts at replicating her office girl suits for a man's oversized shirt and jeans, which is really an enjoyable experience all around. She feels like a little kid following her dad around the shop again, and it bolsters her mood. She holds out a hand to shake.]

Kit Baxter-Fenwick.

[There are some things in which Lyall still retains his Victorian manners. One of them is how to treat a lady, regardless of her attire. So when she offers her hand to shake, he instead rests his under it and, though he doesn't actually kiss it-- that's a little too intimate for someone like him-- he does bow a little again over it.]

A pleasure, miss Baxter-Fenwick. I appreciate your coming all the way out here.

[Well, if he's gonna be like that...]

Mrs. Baxter-Fenwick, actually. Fenwick's my husband's name. I just tacked it on at the end there.

[She might be actively messing with him. After all, the proper folks back home were scandalized by her hyphenated name. Might work here, too.]

[Considering how many people he knew back in England with hyphenated names, Lyall doesn't even bat an eye.]

I must admit, sometimes I am surprised that my own Alpha, Lady Maccon, didn't do the same. It seems very much like something she would do. Regardless, it's a pleasure, Mrs. Baxter-Fenwick.

[Hm. Well behaved. Point in his favor.]

Sure thing. Now, let's get you ridin' this thing without anything windin' up smashed.

Thank you. My problem seems to be largely in balance, and some with coordination-- I haven't gotten used to the controls yet, I'm afraid.

[He leads the way over to the motorbike in question, a fairly standard specimen, obviously purchased used and a little dirty from falling over a few times and running into some foliage a couple other times.]

They do feel a little different from just riding a bike, but I wouldn't be surprised if you were spookin' yourself. It's pretty much the same trick.

[Of course he rode a bike when he was a kid. Who didn't?]

[He gives her an apologetic look, and explains:]

I'm afraid I never rode any kind two-wheeled contraption in my time, Mrs. Baxter-Fenwick. I come from London in eighteen-seventy-five, and while such things did exist then, I never had to actually attempt to use one for transport.

Ah, Christmas. Well, that puts us back at the beginning. I wonder if anybody does have a bike you could borrow to get the hang of the balance on...

[No training wheels for motorbikes, after all.]

I suppose it's possible, though I haven't seen any. I could ask at Edmund's, he seems able to find just about anything.

[He has a thought, looking between her and his new acquisition, and adds,]

If the possibility of hurting my person is your concern, however, you needn't fear. I mend quite rapidly.

Huh, ain't that handy? Good to know. But, uh, still not a lotta point in you crashin' that little bike all over the place. It doesn't have super powers at all.

Quite true, and I would hate to damage it before I even got it anywhere. Well, should I see about that bicycle first, then?

[He sounds resigned, but he'll take her advice, whatever it is.]

Yeah, seems like. I don't wanna see any smashin' we could avoid.

[She grins at him.]

But maybe someone's got somethin' you could borrow. Silly to waste the trip. If nothin' else, we'll get yah standin' up.

[The smile he returns is small, but kind, and grateful, too.]

Thank you, Mrs. Baxter-Fenwick. I have a few people here I might ask, or I could check at supply. Would you like to accompany me, in the meantime, as we sniff something down?

[she can't help herself, a bit of a smirk on her face when the video comes on]

Having trouble keeping your balance? You might need training wheels.

[The joke, unfortunately, falls a little flat. Lyall is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of training wheels on a child's first bike. He, after all, comes from a time frame in which bikes are rather rare.

So he looks at her with some quizzical hope.]

Is that possible? It might look a little silly, but I can practice at night, if need be....

[Tony still prefers audio out of habit when he's in the ship, but it's hardly necessary to see his face to know that he's smirking at the image of the mussed werewolf.]

Step one: don't jump off to chase your own bike.

[Oh, of course, it's him. At least he half-expected this one in particular. His voice is dry and largely unimpressed when he answers.]

I did just fine with that part, yes, thank you.

Huh. So the old saying's wrong after all.

[There's a pause. Either he's feeling helpful or (more likely) he's feeling bored - after a moment, he continues with:]

Get away from the mud. And gravel, grass, any slick or shifting surface. Right now, if you can't keep proper traction, you're dead in the water.

[Well, that's surprising. And it encourages the sheepish and slightly frustrated admission:]

It's really less traction that's a problem, and more... not falling over. I haven't quite managed the whole balancing issue, I'm afraid. Werewolves in London do not generally even ride in carriages, much less astride a horse. A two-wheeled contraption like this I've heard of, but never actually, well. Seen, until now.

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[Video | Thursday afternoon]

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