14975/Paradox: A Fantastic Life

Paradox: A Fantastic Life
Date of Scene:	21 May 2023
Location:	Reed and Sue's Suite - Four Freedom Plaza
Synopsis:	Diatoms are loveless single cell organisms.
Cast of Characters:	Susan Richards, Reed Richards

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Susan Richards has posed:
It's not terribly often that the universe aligns in such away for both halves of the lovingly married couple that is Susan and Reed Richards to find time to indulge in domestic relaxation, despite vast wealth and truly incredible scientific acumen. But sometimes, it does indeed happen, and the universe does allow an all too brief moment of serenity and relaxation.

Susan's dressed down, golden blonde hair swept back and gathered into a loose ponytail with a simple hair elastic, wearing a powder blue t-shirt and high waisted blue jeans in a slightly darker shade. She finds herself breezing about the kitchen of their suite, occasionally reaching out for a sip of white wine, as she watches a pot of water coming to a boil... surely, Reed has some sort of device that could instantly boil it, but Sue's oddly demanding about her kitchen. No strange irradiation devices, even the fridge and freezer function on entirely understandable concepts of physics.

Because when you spend so much of your life dealing with the outlandish, you keep an iron grip on that one little island of absolute mundanity. Or you do if you are Susan Richards, closet control freak.

Reed Richards has posed:
It is truly an act of galactic preportions that would seperate Reed from his lab for very long, and an equally great act of patience that Susan puts up with it. It has a great deal to do with why he doesn't ask very many questions about what she does at the Hellfire Club, actually. If he's going to be preoccupied for the majority of their marriage, she should be free to engage in whatever she might need to, to remain sane.

Though periodically he does come out from the lab and dress himself down.

Not because he owes it to her, but because he always intends to do so and time gets away from him. As brilliant as he is, he has not yet mastered time. Despite his best efforts.

Dressed in casual clothing rather than his usual labcoat and unstable molecular suit, he has on a simple button down shirt and a pair of slacks with black socks. His graying brown hair is swept back, freshly washed, and trimmed. While his beard is equally manicured with the hints of white at the curve of his jaw as he pads into the kitchen to refill his glass of wine.

Smiling when he sees Sue, "It smells delightful." He says of whatever she's cooking, knowing better than ot offer any suggestions or recommendations in this, her dominion... which, conversationally speaking, is kind of awkward.

Women. Kitchen.

It should be noted for the readers that this was NOT his decision.

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan has, if anything, learnt to treat her goings on at the Hellfire Club much the same way Reed treats his long periods of work in the lab. Which is to say, questions about it will be answered, but a casual, unspoken 'If I'm not asking about it, I probably don't need to know' policy hovers in place. It's not even that Susan doesn't understand all the technical terms.

It's just that she doesn't understand enough about it to do more than make conversation.

And besides, Reed hardly ever disappears into his lab for weeks and winds up arriving via dimensional tear somewhere else with it having been far longer or shorter for him.

Nowadays.

And while Sue's going about putting together a pasta of fresh spring vegetables on the same level of autopilot Reed likely does advanced astrophysics calculations, it just means she's able to flash a bright smile /without/ worrying about having to deflect her knife blade with a hasty forcefield as she works through some scallions. "Well well! ...Oh god, we don't have another Nobel ceremony do we?"

She narrows her eyes suspiciously, eyes drifting up and down... no, labcoat and unstable molecular suit. This is definitely just Reed remembering that time doesn't /actually/ stop in his lab. "I'm kidding... mostly. But it's nice to see you relaxing! Are you going to sleep tonight? Remember, you have to sleep at least once every 72 hours or I'm going to tell the HERBIES to hide your..." She frowns.

"Something scientific. I'll tell them to steal the brightest glowing rock in the minerals lab."

Reed Richards has posed:
Reed laughs, though it's a quiet sound, and only slightly awkward. Not because what she said isn't amusing, so much as he's always been a little awkward about expressing humor. Scientifically, he understands the social interaction and need for levity, it's just never been something for which he expressed a great deal of aptitude. Except for in those rare instances where he tosses a zinger.

It happens.

His hand rests in the small of her back for a moment, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, and then he's reaching over to fill his glass with some wine. Standing with his hip leaning against the counter, peering down into the pot with a far off expression for several seconds as if something has occured to him. Only to snap out of it with a shake of his head and sip from his glass.

"I've very nearly made a breakthrough on something I've been working on for most of the week." While she had not, specifically, asked.. he volunteers it. Which means whatever this breakthrough is, it must be important. "You are aware of the dossier I recieved from SHIELD and the Avengers regarding the Brood in the Savage Lands?" Another sip, a smile curling at the corners of his breaded mouth.

"Well, I've successfully isolated the genetic material that differentiates Brood ebryotic material from the host. And simulated the teleportation of that material out of the host cell. While I don't think I'm quite ready to move into active testing phase, I think I will be within the next few days." What does that all mean, of course.

"If I'm right-" And he certainly seems to think he is, "-I've created the first telportation medical instrument. Able to remove affected, damaged, or mutated material out of a living organism. Specifically targetting Brood e..mbr..yosis.." His brow furrows, staring at her, guaging whether she's starting to go glossy eyed.

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue tenses ever so slightly when that hand lands upon the small of her back, lifting up a little, back arching, it's small, subtle, likely part of the reason so many tabloids and legitimate news organizations traffic in gossip about Susan's supposed tangled triangle with Namor and her husband. Because that minor, barely perceptible reaction is practically the equivalent of a younger couple practically fusing together in friction.

Her eyebrows perk /high/ as Reed covers that he's close to a breakthrough. "A week? ...It's not..." She frowns slightly, forms a circle with her hands for a moment, "KaBOOM! End of the world! Type stuff is it? Something with the space port? Hyperspace? ...Oh goodness, it's not those awful space bugs in the Antarctic is it? I ah..." She frowns severely, "I didn't respond to any of the tactical planning meeting invites for that. If Johnny and Ben were around? Maybe. You know, let them go... do that. But I'm not having our kids fight space bugs, and..." She shudders, "That can be someone else's whole... thing."

She heaves a loud sigh and winces, "It... /is/ the space bugs... I..." She shakes her head slowly.

"Well... that's... good. As long as I don't have to fight them. I /have/ seen the Aliens movies and... I prefer my science fiction of the light hearted space opera variety. And not because of the gold bikini. No matter how many magazines used to ask if I'd agree to a photo shoot."

Reed Richards has posed:
Reed takes another sip from his glass and sets it down on the counter with a slow nod when she stumbles upon what he is researching. His grin faulters only slightly, "I did my best to avoid getting involved, this is a younger mans science experiment, but you know I cannot turn away anyone who asks for assistance." Mostly because of his hubris. If someone suggests he might be of value in solving a problem, Richards is going to go out of his way to not only solve it, but do so quickly and efficiently.

"The more I look into the incident, however, I have come to understand someone has created these bugs." Which was spelled out rather effectively, honestly, but- "and checked the genetic markers thoroughly enough that I feel confident that they no longer pose a long term concern for anyone we can get to within a few moments of implantation of an egg inside them."

A finger hoists, with a grin, "And I've already initiated countermeasures on Freedom Plaza to protect us against any invasions. Which I'm going to offer to other organizations.. for the purposes of exploring environments where they have already established an infestation. I would, of course, like to be on the ground for further research, but I understand if you would prefer not to accompany." His hand reaches out ot squeeze her upper arm affectionately.

"I will, however, need you on hand for an experiment. I cannot, in good conscious, provide technology we have not tested ourselves. I assure you it'll be safe." No dimensional teleportation. At least not this time.

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan nods and smiles with a mix of warmth and crooked, almost sardonic amusement. "Yes yes, well, much of what we do is a younger person's game nowadays." She heaves out a sigh and murmurs dryly, "Most things, really. We don't even have parent teacher meetings for the kids. ...Of course we didn't even when they were in school with those automated learning machines." Her eyebrows perk and she tilts her head lips fading from grin to concerned, thin line.

"Someone like... some random alien despot a thousand years ago before they began swarming across the galaxy? Or... these are some genetic tinkering by someone /here/ that just happens to mimic an existing alien species?" She sighs and shakes her head slowly, "Well, it's good that we've got a cure for them... even if I'm /still/ weirded out we /need/ one... wasn't it so much simpler when it was just... moloids from beneath the Earth? They didn't have /eggs/."

She pauses for a long moment, testing a strand of pasta and then, finding it satisfactory, draining it. "...Did they? It's all a bit of a blur now."

She bobs her head and smiles brightly, "Very well! I'll get my suit on after dinner. No experimentation on an empty stomach, darling."

Reed Richards has posed:
"Ah, well you've never looked a day over twenty to me, dear." Reed assures her when Sue asserts that their life, odd though it might be, has begun to pass them by. He smiles and leans forward to kiss the top of her head, stretching slightly that he may achieve this show of affection. His hand remains on her upper arm when he settles back into his normal density, peering at the pot with a raising brow of curosity. Likely to do very little with the cooking pot.

"I wouldn't call it a cure. It still requires an individual be attended to rather quickly after implantation, but if it happens here where I've already built and deployed the device? Certainly, we are under no threat from these creatures at the Plaza." That should be of some comfort.

Though what he says next might belay some of that.

"No, someone has ... engineered them. Not originally, as far as I can see, but certainly the ones we are encountering now. I'm not certain yet for what purpose, but I cannot imagine it's anything good. As fascinating as I might find the species, they are rarely very beneficial for the people they conqour." And it is nothing short of conquest in his mind.

His smile returns, mind flicking around different concepts easily. As easily as his hand can snap out across the room to grab another bottle of wine from the rack, which he does, and retract back without moving more than a half step away from her.

"No, I don't believe the moloids were a oviparous and certainly not parasitic oviparous." The smile turns to Sue proper, "Excellent. I admit I didn't realize how hungry I was until I walked into the kitchen."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan's reaction to that kiss is a familiar serene little huff of breath, and a faint flush to her cheeks as she rolls her eyes, "Yes, yes, I know it's foolish of me to worry about my looks... I mean, for one thing, I spend enough time on them to know that I look /just fine/... sometimes I just think about what I could do if I /didn't have/ to spend the time. Though it'd just be more time for Janet to drag me into trouble, or for the kids to..." She shrugs helplessly, like she can't even narrow down what kind of trouble Val and Franklin could be in.

Her head bobs and she chimes in, "Well, I feel better then. I can't think of anywhere I'd run into one of these bugs that wasn't some ridiculous confluence of events that led to one being here. So I'll definitely assist in testing. Even if it might partly be selfish. Also, it makes it easier to spot when the patent submissions are missing key details if I see the thing in action."

And even as she's speaking, she's preparing two plates of pasta and spring vegetables in a light cream sauce. She snickers and bobs her head with a bright grin, "Oh, I'm used to that. Generally if I start to consider going to bed and I haven't seen you, it's how those ham sandwiches wind up in the fridge for you."

Reed Richards has posed:
"Eventually I will figure out the relative flow of time and be able to cycle it forward or back as I need, but unfortunately that science still elludes me." Reed says with genuine regret. It is safe to assume that he is busy at work trying to figure that particular equation. It's something that will certainly require longer than a week, given he's been working at it since he was thirty.

His smile doesn't fade, regardless of the down turn of his tone.

"Time, unfortunately, marches ever forward. It is a blessing that we were exposed to cosmic rays, as we were, otherwise who knows where we might be." His greatest failure and success. With a squeeze of her arm, he moves towards the table and begins to set out dinner ware. Carrying both of their glasses and the bottle, which sits beneath his arm, to place them down in front of the little dinner mats. Next he grabs forks and moves to the fridge to grab a bowl of salad and bowls to serve some into with a nice vinegrette dressing.

All of which he lays out as she serves of the pasta.

"I don't think I tell you enough how much I love you, Sue. I do. Without you, I'm not sure any of this would be worth it. I know I am often aloof and distant, but I assure you that everything I do, every experiment and hypothesis, it's for you and the family." He means it, even if that's not ENTIRELY true.

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan laughs softly and shakes her head with an impish little glint in her eyes, "Now now, don't be /too/ upset about not having cracked unlimited time travel yet my dear husband. After all, while I'm sure you will eventually, the fact that you haven't come back to tell yourself about it means it's likely quite the monumental risk to use all... fancy free and willy nilly?"

Susan feigns a shudder, "Oh, goodness! Can you imagine if I'd just /stayed/ enrolled in business school? I'd be managing a JC Penney somewhere. If they even existed. No, no, as dramatic and upending as our... mishap.. was, I would not change it for the world. Or even several worlds." She smirks and sighs out, "Besides, I'd lose my ace in the hole for flustering you whenever we get in an argument about whether or not the kids can try something foolhardy when that paternal, responsible side of you starts rearing its head."

She shakes her head and takes /her/ turn to lean in and bestow a series of warm kisses on her husband, voice dropping, just the slightest sternness slipping into her tone. "You don't /need/ to tell me. We know we love each other. I've always been absolutely confused how the /rest/ of the world can't see it clearly when it's so blindingly, ridiculously obvious."

Reed Richards has posed:
"Perhaps I have come back to tell myself and I've decided not to share it out of fear you might finding the elderly me more dashing?" Reed wonders playfully as he finishes laying forks to either side of small plates for salad. Adjusting one so that it sits at the exact same angle as the one across the table from it, moving the utensil with one extended finger. "I know that time travel exists, of course. We've seen it, but what I'm suggesting is not time travel, it's the manipulation of time." Which is very different.

"I don't want to move in and out of existing timelines, I want to infinitely extend the time within one." As if that somehow clears up his specific intentions. In short, however, he wants to live forever.

In leyterms.

Smiling as he does so at the series of kisses to the back of his neck and a glance back his wife bestowing them. "Ah, but I have never once told our children not to do something foolhardy if the persuit is scientific. It's only when they want to do something... silly... like engage in emotional decisions without thinking through the implications that /I/ become concerned." That is his alotted joke for the century. Grinning lopsided as he slips up behind a chair and retracts it from beneath the table for Susan.

"That's because the rest of the world are obtuse and gauge their infinitely small observations on tactile, insignificant stimuli. They're emotional amoebi. Single cell organisms with the empathic understanding of a diatom."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan narrows her eyes once more, even if those bright blues do sweep up and down, she leans back, cups her chin, tilts her head. It's all very showy, the way she appraises her husband and then clicks her tongue softly. "Nope. I think you might come back more distinguished, but you might /also/ come back looking like a raving lunatic who escaped the post-apocalypse. I am afraid, my dear husband, that I have adoration for /my/ Reed. Your future self will simply have to settle for future me."

She tilts her head to the side, shoulders rising and falling. "But if my other self shows up for tea, I suppose I'll hear myself out on how things have been going."

And that allotted joke earns a genuine little gasping snort and giggle of amusement. "Oh, I don't think we have /too/ much to worry about in that regard. ...Or if we do, I'm entirely unaware of it. For our younger children. Johnny and Ben? Definitely more likely to make rash, emotional decisions, usually about pranking one another."

Susan smiles once more as she settles in for dinner, lifting her glass in an unspoken little toast.

"I don't actually know what a diatom is, dear."

But then, she's used to that.