Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #27: Quasi-Uncle (5/23/99)
Arat waits for Nick to dress for the day in an outfit Arat has provided.
Arat has assured Nick the outfit is only temporary, until Nick has chosen something appropriate on his own.
Nick gingerly threads the pants over his cast.
Arat won't quite admit to being a little excited about what he has planned for today: It's rather like embarking upon a strange and exotic voyage.
Nick: I think they're a bit large, but that's all to the good, as long as I have the cast.
Arat frowns, and adds knowledge of what constitutes proper tailoring to the ever lengthening list of Nick's educational plans.
Arat is still trying to arrange for an accident to befall Nick's original, incredibly tight pants, although this has proved remarkably difficult as Nick is very protective of the item in question.
Nick picks up the shirt.
Nick: Nice material here.
Arat is pleased that Nick noticed the fabric: Surely a good sign?
Nick would hate to hurt Arat's feelings by pointing out how dull the color is, compared with his usual style.
Nick slips the shirt on, concentrating on the feel of the fabric rather than its appearance.
Arat catches rather more of a zlin of silk slithering over Gen skin than he had really intended, as a consequence.
Arat is glad Jeniard isn't around just now.
Nick: I don't think I've ever worn a silk shirt before, although my uncle did give me his old silk robe when he got tired of it.
Arat: Your uncle? [curious]
Arat: I wasn't aware you had an uncle.
Arat looks pained.
Arat: I mean, I wasn't aware that you grew up with an uncle.
Arat starts to correct himself again, then decides this could only end in disaster and wisely refrains.
Nick: My uncle is... rather eccentric. He only came to visit when Grandmother was away.
Arat: I see.
Arat wonders if it is a son of some unmentioned husband of Prunida, or a Narosian uncle unsuspected as such.
Arat decides he'd rather not know, unless it's really necessary.
Nick looks at the buttons curiously.
Nick: What are these made of? I don't think I've seen anything like them before.
Arat: Those are ivory. They're imported from Maple Leaf territory, but they were made far north of there.
Nick: Really?
Arat surveys the final effect of Nick's dress: He appears, except for his nager and his hairdo, to be a young hip cat from the artsy side of town.
Arat hopes this will do as a compromise between taste and Nick's opinions.
Nick taps a button.
Nick: They don't look like teeth, really.
Nick: Is the carving done in the far north as well?
Arat: Yes, it is.
Arat: Really, we must do something about your hair.
Arat thinks it was Riyyh's job to train Nick for these things.
Nick: My hair?
Arat: It's... [eyes the hair, unable to come up with a suitable adjective]
Nick runs his fingers through it, which at least fails to make it more disordered.
Nick: I suppose it is time for a trim.
Arat: Comb it back with water, at least.
Nick nods and disappears into the bathroom.
Nick: Hmm, maybe I should grow a beard again.
Arat rethinks his plan for the morning, which calls for getting Nick situated in suitable housing without any undue embarrassment to himself, Arat, in the process.
Nick thought it looked quite dashing, even if Snake never noticed.
Arat makes a couple of subtle tweaks to the plan, knowing that it will probably be necessary to deviate from the plan anyway.
Nick returns with his hair slicked straight back, and showing prominent comb tracks.
Arat has done a lot of deviating from plans since Nick's arrival.
Nick: There. At least it's out of my eyes now.
Arat winces at the hair; Nick now looks like a pimp.
Nick does not, however, zlin like a pimp.
Arat looks briefly scandalized, then sags as he admits that Nick's hair will have dried, and be looking like a mop again, before they're much out of this building anyway.
Arat: Very well then. [sighs internally]
Arat: Shall we go?
Arat is himself dressed in civilian clothing, for the first time since Nick's arrival.
Nick moves to Arat's side, prepared to shield him from the nagers on the street.
Nick: Certainly.
Nick looks at Arat's dress.
Nick: You know, I'm not sure I'd recognize you out of uniform, if I couldn't feel your nager.
Arat: Oh?
Arat has been told by more than one person (and by Jeniard more than once) that when he is in uniform his dark, brooding moods seem out of place, but when he is in civilian clothing, they seem somehow correct.
Arat of course thinks they are all idiots.
Nick: Yes. You seem a bit less overwhelmingly Tecton Controller.
Arat ponders that.
Nick has, of course, been subjected to amazingly few of said dark, brooding moods.
Arat leads the way down the stairs and to the book where it is necessary for him to sign out.
Nick follows, thinking that the two of them might attract a bit less attention without Arat's uniform making it so obvious what they are, even to the Gens.
Arat leads the way outdoors, bracing himself automatically for something unpleasant.
Nick's nager bubbles with delight at the perfect weather.
Arat's eyes water at the unaccustomed brilliance.
Arat scouts the area nagerically, then picks a route and starts walking.
Arat: I hope you will like this neighborhood. It is the closest I could find to what you are used to, while still being acceptable.
Nick stays at Arat's elbow.
Nick: Acceptable to whom?
Arat looks at Nick oddly.
Arat: To me, of course.
Nick: I see.
Nick: I know you were uncomfortable during our trip to that teahouse, but I admit, I don't see what you found so threatening about it.
Arat: It's not that I was threatened, per se. [defensively] I just did not think it was an appropriate environment.
Arat, in other words, does not get into what he considers slumming.
Nick: You were acting as if you expected to be attacked at any moment. And you're getting tense now just thinking about it.
Nick applies his nager to the tension.
Arat: Incidents are not unheard of. [concedes]
Arat is perhaps a bit more wary than most when it comes to potential 'incidents', but not without what he considers good reasons.
Nick: You're a very strong channel, Arat. Street thugs aren't interested in tangling with someone who can zlin them--and shen them--before they get close enough to do any damage.
Arat's expression makes it clear the very thought makes him feel queasy.
Arat: Perhaps so, but that is hardly any reason to invite fate.
Arat: Besides, it isn't simply fear of attack. There's a lot more to it than that.
Arat basically doesn't like to be surrounded by the teeming, groping, unpredictable masses, particularly the section of the masses that doesn't have everything it needs.
Nick: Yes, I know. You feel as awkward and uncomfortable among the people I grew up with as I do among your social elite--and for much the same reasons.
Arat, actually, has never been afraid of looking a fool in front of the hoi polloi.
Arat: I doubt it. [dryly]
Arat is leading them in the general direction of a river side district with lots of stone and brick built warehouses become artist's lofts and galleries, cafes, jazz parlors, and peculiar boutiques.
Arat hopes the lingering, prior pockets of shabbiness mixed in with the arty scene will pique Nick's interest.
Nick looks around with interest.
Arat will have a much more difficult time civilizing Nick in social matters if the man doesn't live in a trendy enough neighborhood to be able to invite guests home, after all.
Nick: I don't think I've been over in this direction before. Aren't we close to the river?
Arat: Yes. Those warehouses were once used for river traffic.
Arat: And see, the railroad tracks run along parallel to the shore.
Nick: It doesn't look like there's much shipping here now, though.
Arat: No, it's an artist's and musicians' quarter now, and many students live here as well.
Arat is pleased that the students are of the lingering advanced degree or lifelong school slacker types, rather than the boisterous First Year types.
Arat finds the former provide a better atmosphere for civilized living.
Nick thinks that explains both the relatively decent state of the buildings, and the absence of the little touches of decoration used by the working poor to show that they aspire to better.
Arat scrutinizes the buildings' tops, wondering if he has any ownership in any of them.
Arat's connection with real estate is through a manager and his financial counselors, and he pays little attention to it.
Arat's money and he could really barely be considered married.
Arat wonders if he should have looked into the matter before bringing Nick here, and then decides it probably isn't important.
Nick: They are transients then, mainly, not people raising families?
Arat: There are a lot of single people, but they are not necessarily transients.
Arat edges sideways to allow an older woman with crazy gray witch hair flying in all directions by; she is wearing purple shades, a beanie and has a blank canvas clamped under one arm.
Arat looks a little distressed as he hopes Nick isn't getting a bad impression already.
Nick looks after the woman.
Nick: She reminds me a little of one of Snake's clients, back in Bender Cove.
Arat winces.
Arat isn't wincing at Nick's words, but at the two young teens, dressed as punks, who are pretending to be beggars on the sidewalk ahead of them.
Punk beggar: Hey, man, spare some change?
Punk beggar: ~~ insolence ~~
Punk beggar is well aware that Arat isn't a resident of this street.
Zook stands at his buddy's elbow, contriving to look like he is going to spend the money on liquor instead of an espresso.
Zook: ~~ unshaven punk machismo aura, all fake ~~
Arat gives the beggar a withering look, and slides past him, making sure he doesn't lose any of his pockets' contents along the way.
Arat finds them both perfectly loathsome, at least as much for their pretense as for their physical and mental states.
Nick is hard put not to snicker out loud at the punk's performance.
Zook: Hey... where's your heart, man? [calls after Arat]
Punk beggar: Lorshes. [to Zook]
Arat's skin crawls with reaction.
Arat: It gets better closer to the boardwalk.
Arat: [to Nick]
Arat withdraws a precisely folded piece of paper from his pocket, and reads it.
Arat had found it necessary to get some trusted employees to research potential apartments and set up appointments, being much too busy himself.
Nick: Arat, those were just youngsters trying to run a scam. Completely harmless.
Nick tries to ~~ soothe ~~ Arat's ruffled feathers.
Arat: This is a list of apartments I'd like you to have a look at while we're down here.
Arat: They're all within your means, or will be if you sign on with the Tecton, and all quite nice.
Arat checks the time, picks the first address and heads in that direction, since it's a number of blocks away.
Arat checks Nick for interest in the cafes, odd bookstores and music shops they pass.
Nick is more busy people-watching at the moment.
Nick: There are an awful lot of people on the streets, for the middle of the day. Don't they have jobs?
Arat: Many of them don't, not in the usual sense.
Arat supposes that is one of the neighborhood's charms.
Nick: Well, I guess students would have irregular hours.
Arat: As would artists and musicians. [points out]
Nick: I suppose so.
Nick: Come to think of it, you and I are subject to odd hours as well. Is that why you picked this neighborhood?
Arat: No. [admits]
Arat isn't going to begrudge Nick any possible rationalization for picking to live here, though.
Arat: But it is a good point.
Nick dodges a young woman in very worn clothing of once-good quality who is speed-walking down the sidewalk with singleminded intensity, carrying a pair of notebooks under her arm.
Arat ignores the woman, who he finds to be relatively inoffensive.
Nick nods.