4874/A Plan for Mayhem

A Plan for Mayhem
Date of Scene:	25 January 2021
Location:	Wellness Office
Synopsis:	Quentin makes lunch plans with Ruth. Food. Training. Mayhem.
Cast of Characters:	Quentin Quire, Ruth Aldine

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Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin was not a stranger to the wellness office. He suffered headaches, occasional nosebleeds, minor allergies. He hated feeling anything he didn't want, determined to constantly edit the world to suit his particular tastes and so his complaining often landed him here to be dismissed and gaslighted by the indifferent eye of medical professionals with too little training and much better things to do.

None of which are there now, as Quentin leads Ruth in behind him.

"Excellent," he says, hopping into a chair and beginning to type in, "Let's see, they use 5493 variations of a base password, reassembled in different configurations on a daily rota. Or, at least, they did until I planted a worm program in the algorithm and...yes, I'm in."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth wasn't feeling all that hot, mostly due to what transpired this weekend. If it were transmitted to Quentin, is anyones guess, but a visit to the Wellness office was in order. Somehow, someway, they both met up, made their way there sans pup, Ruth covered in her ruana to keep the chill off of her skinny bones.

This time, she didn't even bother finding her blindfold. Cue stares from students.

"What are we doing, sorry.." She asks, moving to a chair off to the side to sit, her shoulders hunkered down as she tries to fight back the quease in her stomach. If she had eyes they would hurt, but thankfully she created a tether into Quentin's brain so that she wouldn't have to use her own clairvoyance to navigate.

Quentin Quire has posed:
"I am investigating the chemical payload this office delivers to the brainstems of the student body and faculty on a daily basis. I'm sorting through the communal medicine cabinet, so to speak, and seeing what prescriptions they have. Oh, I didn't know Juan had an ulcer. Would you like me to prescribe you anything fun? I can send it in and they'll never know the difference when we pick it up at the pharmacy. Also, do you want to go to the pharmacy later. I need recreational narcotics and trucker magazines."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"Oh."

Ruth got it. But at this moment, she really wasn't capable of processing it just yet. Still early in the morning.. no coffee..

"Thank you. This weekend was not good." She confesses. "I dragged people to the astral realm and almost died because of drugs, yes. Yes. No. That was bad." She shakes her head, her hand lifting to rub at the skin covering her eyesocket. "Sorry, still feel sick."

She slumps in the chair, then yawns. "I will go with you. Thank you. Mack chewed through his rope."

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin Quire purses his lips, "That's terrible. How could you think that was not good? That sounds amazing. Look, you're not dead and neither are they. Probably. Unless you're still tripping and this is all a hallucination. Plus, I didn't even get to come, which is totally why you almost died. Don't do that unless I'm there to save you from now on. I can make any bad trip my bitch."

He pulls out his vape pen, taking a drag that makes the tip flare purple and blasting mist from his nostrils, "We'll get him a new rope. A chain, even, dare I say. He will never break the chain. That's Fleetwood Mac, which is one of the few acceptable classic rock bands because they were all fucking."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"I do not think I am tripping, yes." Ruth mutters, sitting up yet again and attempting to put on a happy face. One thing that would actually get her going was a good antacid. Something to settle her stomach. The thoughts were not shielded, so Quentin could pick that up almost immediately without her saying a word..

"No drugs unless Quentin is about. Check." Her try at a joke, even though it was dry as hell.

"Landslide people." Ruth comments, at least she had a decent taste in music. She stands from her chair to shuffle towards the computer where Quentin was working, to at least give the impression that she was watching on her own and not through him.

"Have question, yes? Are you smart because you read minds or are you smart because you are smart."

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin Quire raises a finger, 'An excellent question, in part because it's about me and I am so very interesting. My intellect is a quantum intellect, superior in every way to the typical human intelligence. I think faster, computate faster, imagine faster, dream faster than anybody else that isn't a supergenius such as myself. My brain would give Hank Pym cramps. My psionic abilities amplify that - for example, I can merely copy someone else's skills by downloading the data from their brain like a high speed computer and running the program through my own nervous system. My potential is infinite, its boundaries only that I find most everything and everyone so god damned boring I can't be bothered to apply my intellectual horsepower to contemplating them for more than three minutes without needing heavy chemicals soaked into my brainstem in order to cope with the stultifying numbness of this tepid existence."

"Let's get french fries, while we're at it," he says, finishing leaving a few extra trojans in the network. Nothing harmful, just nagging little annoyances Kitty will have to trace down in her free time.

"You're very smart, too, by the way. Your brain is just scrambled by your precognitive abilities. You see too much, ha ha, get it see, no, seriously, you really do, I suspect if you actually had eyeballs they'd melt out of your skull and your condition is an evolutionary defense mechanism."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Funny. Here Ruth thought she was stupid, but once she got movement in her legs and stretched, she understood every single thing Quentin said. She didn't even look at him strange.

Maybe she is smart...

"Am I boring." Statement. Though she would like an answer.

"Pizza and chicken tenders." Ruth adds on, nodding her head, tugging the blanket around her. "I don't know how to control, sorry, anything that I have. Yes. It happens." Ruth nods, even gestures towards his head. "I don't just do, yes, no, no, no.." She couldn't get that last thought out, shaking her head to pound the heel of her palm against her forehead. "It just do!" She blurts out. "Yes!"

The happiness was her not getting stuck in a goddamned loop of yes, no, thank you, pardon...

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin Quire blinks, "You're an eyeless mutant who can see the future, can read minds and lives in a mansion full of displaced superhuman beings hunted and loathed by bigots and secret government conspiracies, lying at the center of several apocalyptic prophecies that occasional clashes with large alien civilization over a few blocks of land in Greenwich village. You're interesting, babe, trust me on this. Got a nice butt, too. But that's not the point."

"The point is we really need to get high. Or I do. You can if you want, but I won't force you. Cognitive alteration is not for the faint of heart nor the weak of stomach. I get it. You almost killed some people. If I had a conscience, I'd feel bad, too."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"Past and present." Ruth also adds. Which is comforting that someone knows the extent, which made it easier to speak about it. She lets out a snort of a laugh, which dies almost instantly, then gestures towards the screen to 'help'.

"Morphine, hydromorphone, tramadol. Crush, snort."

And that's all she was going to offer. He did seem like he could handle the powerful sort, and she would be there to watch if anything were to go crazy. "Will you show me?" She asks, giving him a light nudge. Hardly ever does Ruth touch people, so this had to be important. "Talent show coming soon, yes. Join it."

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin Quire turns at the touch, his ability to detect patterns noting that this was, indeed, unusual, "I appreciate the recommendation. I'll keep the recipe in mind. As for the talent show, I have many, many talents, most of which the local swinery will not appreciate, but I'd be happy to provide you assistance in any way, shape or form you might prefer. I'm not sure what you want me to show you. The vast conspiracies or your great butt?"

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"Do it anyway." Ruth says. Yes, join the talent show and cause a freaking ruckus. Ruth would enjoy that, not that she was the anarchist type. She was slowly getting there..

"No." She says flatly. "Show me, pardon, how to use me. Yes." Her head nods, her arms now lifting to tug the ruana tightly around her neck. She was getting awfully hungry, not to mention, really.. really thick chicken tenders, which are really ranch scoopers, sounded so damn good about now.

"Food."

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin Quire nods, "Food. Then cognitive psionic training focused on the sectioning all of your psychic capabilities into their proper functions. Which will take a few months, but we'll get there. Then mayhem. Lunch, work, mayhem. That sounds like a good life balance to me," he says.