Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #146: Ew (2/1/00)
Lalique sits in her cramped dorm room, studying her face in the mirror.
Lalique feels much better for having taken a shower, but there are still black circles under her eyes.
Petrallia signals at Lalique's door.
Lalique glances down at the staid brown skirt and sweater with distaste, but they are better the obscene party dress she wore earlier.
Lalique: Come in!
Petrallia is a short (very short) large nosed (very large nosed - at least 1/2" longer than any Farris schnozz), big haired (think: Hebro) pasty faced female 2nd order Channel.
Petrallia walks in.
Petrallia is not, and could not possibly be mistaken for, a Farris.
Lalique can't believe that after a month of running, conniving and striving, she has ended up back where she started.
Petrallia peers at Lalique, and her big nose twitches like a mouse's whiskers, once.
Petrallia: You're Lalique Vale, right?
Petrallia's voice, not surprisingly, his high and nasal.
Lalique stares at Petrallia.
Lalique has rarely seen a face so lacking in charm.
Petrallia resembles a rat wearing a uniform. With big hair.
Lalique: Yes, that's right.
Petrallia: Heard you got the treatment.
Lalique thinks that, then again, she isn't quite as bad as Erejohn at the city jail.
Lalique: Treatment?
Petrallia: The works. The shakedown. Arat rough your lifestyle over a little bit?
Petrallia: Don't worry. It happens to everyone on their first day.
Lalique thinks or, at least, while Petrallia may be as ugly as Erejohn, she isn't as stupid.
Petrallia: You know, I could get you a great price for this.
Petrallia fingers the beaded, chain link dress hanging over a chair.
Lalique: Well, yes, there have certainly been some changes made in my plans.
Lalique: Who do you think would like it?
Petrallia winks.
Petrallia: If I told you, that would be cheating.
Lalique: Well, it is an antique, you know.
Petrallia: I brought you your orders.
Petrallia plucks a green transfer card seemingly out of thin air.
Lalique quirks her eyebrows inquiringly.
Lalique wonders if Arat is going to insist that her field be taken all the way down.
Petrallia passes it over, with a sly twitch of her ratlike nose.
Lalique looks at the card.
Petrallia: Rifan. He's a handful, but not as bad as they get. It could have been Darrel. [wrinkles her nose]
Lalique's eyebrows arch in surprise.
Lalique: What's wrong with Rifan?
Petrallia: Well, he tries to be a workaholic, but it's a case of the flesh being weaker than the spirit, if you know what I mean?
Petrallia: Of course, the so-called solutions to that problem only make it worse. But I guess it's his business what he spends his money on.
Petrallia: Myself, I'd rather have my health.
Petrallia studies Lalique with bright, black eyes.
Lalique: He uses ...medication?
Petrallia: Is that what they're calling it these days?
Lalique: Sometimes.
Petrallia runs a finger along the top of the dresser, then rubs the dust off her fingertips meaningfully.
Petrallia: I wouldn't know.
Lalique: And what's wrong with Darrel?
Petrallia: Darrel? He's a Genphobe.
Lalique: Really? Well, that's unusual.
Petrallia: Had the idea he'd like to try the rogue life, only it turns out it's not for people who scream mother when they see their own shirt hanging on the chair at their bedside in the middle of the night.
Petrallia: Got turned in, got rehabilitated, now he's supposed to be doing pretty good.
Petrallia smiles, one finger making a no-no motion.
Lalique: But he's still a Genphobe?
Petrallia: All it'll take is one bad encounter with a powerful, dominant Gen and... poof!
Petrallia: That's why he's still here under Arat's wing.
Petrallia: If you'll excuse the phrase.
Lalique: Are there a lot of... uh, misfits... under the wing, as you say?
Petrallia: Maybe, but he does a good job of making sure the bad coins shuffle into their natural spot.
Lalique: Interesting.
Petrallia: Not everybody is as perfect as Hajene Undertow.
Lalique: I had heard he was a stickler for regulations, a by-the-book man.
Petrallia: Oh, I suppose he is, on the surface. [casually]
Petrallia looks away for a moment, and then looks back, the sly sparkling expression there again.
Petrallia: Then again, who judges undertow by what's on the surface?
Lalique: ~~confidentially, just among us girls~~ What's he really like?
Petrallia's pink, slightly hairy tentacles - like rat's tails - flick in acknowledgement.
Lalique is distracted by the movement of the tentacles. They are really ugly, but kind of endearing in spite of it or maybe because of it.
Petrallia: He's a cold, heartless bastard.
Petrallia: The only good news is, he's more likely to take out his cruelty on himself than on an employee who's been performing well.
Lalique: I heard he hates Gens, even his own Donors.
Petrallia: Nonsense. He hates everybody equally, Gens or otherwise.
Lalique: Though Nick really seemed to like him.
Petrallia: Oh well, Nick would. Arat has been perfectly suckupful to him, at least until that unfortunate incident.
Lalique: Incident?
Petrallia's nose twitches.
Petrallia: Nick had to choose between Snake and Arat, and he made the wrong choice.
Petrallia: He won't be forgiven.
Lalique: ~~concern~~
Lalique: But Nick and Snake were together from the beginning.
Petrallia: I guess Arat didn't like feeling like second best.
Petrallia smirks.
Lalique: ~~confused~~
Lalique: But I thought, in the Tecton, all those selfish, possessive feelings are set aside for the good of humanity.
Petrallia shrugs, with a cascade of writhing rat-tails.
Lalique: And why do you call him Undertow? What a peculiar name.
Petrallia: It's a First Year name. He got it in school. Didn't think he was going to make it, and walked around depressed all the time.
Petrallia: Of course, there's more to it than that.
Lalique perches herself on the chair, invitingly.
Petrallia fingers the chain links and beads again covetously.
Lalique: I love a story.
Petrallia: Well, as the story goes, the Undertow thing was an analogy.
Petrallia: As the Tecton marches forward, so must the old order pass into darkness. That sort of thing.
Petrallia: Arat is the old order, you see?
Lalique: Is he?
Petrallia: Sure he is. His parents were big cheeses pre-Unity.
Petrallia: Farm owners, if you get what I mean.
Petrallia: Not exactly the sort of occupation you pass on to your kids these days.
Lalique: I read something about that in the newspaper, I think.
Petrallia: Anyway, a change of shirt, baddabing, baddaboom, and here he is today.
Petrallia: Still walking around full of gloom and doom. [adds]
Lalique smiles.
Lalique: [tries it on for size] Hajene Undertow.
Lalique: Very poetic.
Lalique fingers the green transfer card.
Lalique: Is this assignment just for therapy, or am I supposed to serve Hajene Rifan?
Petrallia: That depends on you, sweet thing.
Petrallia: Arat doesn't tolerate too many mistakes from the same person.
Lalique can scarcely believe they would trust her with one of their precious channels.
Lalique: And what mistake did Rifan make to pull this assignment?
Petrallia: Are you kidding? It's the exact opposite.
Petrallia: Arat gives the tough jobs to his favorites.
Petrallia: In fact, if you find yourself getting baby work, look out!
Petrallia: It probably means your ass is due to be transferred to another facility.
Lalique: ~~thoughtfully~~ So Rifan's Arat's golden boy.
Lalique: And I'm supposed to be a... challenge.
Petrallia: Naw, he's kind of upper middle somewhere.
Lalique: What are they saying about me?
Petrallia: Oh, just that Arat was going to have your heinie sent to an internment camp for itinerant rogues if you didn't cotton to his little deal.
Petrallia: After the obligatory fair trial, of course.
Petrallia: Have to have that.
Lalique smiles wryly.
Lalique: Of course.
Petrallia: Oh yeah, they also said Snake been asking after you.
Petrallia: I'd watch out for her, if I were you.
Lalique: And why is that?
Petrallia: You never quite know which side her bread is buttered on... or whether she knows, or whether she likes butter, or is allergic to it.
Petrallia: If you catch my drift.
Petrallia: About the only thing you can be sure of is she'll never react to you the same way twice.
Lalique: Well, she's a Farris. Reason enough to be wary.
Petrallia: If you keep coming around, she'll start to think she owns you. Takes after her dad, that way.
Petrallia: Poor Pylor made that mistake, and he's paying for it now.
Petrallia's nose wrinkles up in what looks suspiciously like delight.
Lalique: Well, do I get to meet this upper middle somewhere channel any time soon?
Petrallia: Oh, he'll probably be breaking the news to Rifan any time now.
Petrallia: You know the scene, a lot of deep penetrating silences and then sudden, devastatingly accurate accusations.
Petrallia seems to be speaking from personal experience.
Petrallia: Anyway, he'll survive the experience, and then come looking for you convinced his career is over with if he doesn't pleasure you in every way shape and form while still getting you to do what Arat wants.
Petrallia: Which is, of course, to become a perfect and brilliant Tecton employee who will get him brownie points from the Ones on High.
Lalique: Hmmm... Hajene Undertow gave me a choice.
Lalique: Donate every month like a good little girl or sign on the dotted line.
Lalique: Do you think Hajene Rifan can pleasure me enough to make the second choice seem attractive?
Petrallia extrudes her laterals in Lalique's direction.
Petrallia: If I may?
Lalique is never shy about physical contact.
Lalique: Certainly.
Petrallia zlins Lalique.
Petrallia: It's an OK match.
Petrallia: In my not so expert opinion.
Petrallia: I am sure if he wants you two to hit it off, it will be a perfect match.
Petrallia means He, not just he. In other words, Arat and not Rifan.
Petrallia: Anyway, it'll be a miracle if you can get Rifan to unglue his laterals from his patients long enough to serve his transfer.
Lalique: Oh, I think I'll manage to engage his attention.
Lalique: It's been a while since I had a Sime who matched me.
Lalique: Far too long, really.
Lalique thinks that, in fact, her whole body is still aching from the frustration of serving those renSimes who couldn't begin to satisfy her own need to give.
Petrallia enjoys it for a moment, then prudently withdraws her hands.
Petrallia: Good luck. [winks]
Petrallia: Let me know, about the dress.
Petrallia saunters towards the door.
Lalique: Ah, I'll think I'll hold on to it as a keepsake.
Lalique: A reminder not to trust anyone, ever.
Petrallia's ratlike smile glints and then she is gone.