TDM 001

[raiamods]

TEST DRIVE MEME 001 ❀

CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore.

Please note: FOR THE FIRST 24 HOURS AFTER 'HATCHING', CHARACTERS WILL FEEL WEAK AND ANY POWERS THEY HAVE WILL NOT WORK.

Test drive meme threads can be considered game canon for players who are later accepted and wish to keep their CR. The rescue mission prompt will be a TDM-exclusive, but the other prompts that you see here will also appear on our first game log. There will, of course, be more going on that week.

Please reserve questions about consequences for altering or meaningfully investigating the setting for the first log of the game, where we will have a Mod Questions thread at the top of the log. On this test drive meme, please reserve this thread for clarification and setting questions.

On the first day of reserves (May 10th), only players who participate in the TDM will be allowed to reserve. You must link an AC-length thread from the TDM for early access. Starting on the 11th, any prospective player may submit a reserve. Our hope is that this will avoid overwhelming our reserves.

❀ HATCHING

Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.

Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.

The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?

Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.

The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.

A few notes:

☆ Your character may get pulled away for interrogation at some point. No torture, no drugs; just questioning.

☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?

☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!

☆ Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. The mods will not facilitate escape-plots/etc on test drive memes. However: if you app and are accepted you are more than welcome to chat with us about the possibility of having escaped or attempted it.

❀ EXPLORE THE BASECAMP

On the heels of a little benign interrogation, a medical inspection, and a stern talking to by Captain Childe, the survivors at Basecamp Leviathan determine one thing: you don't appear to be an active threat.

Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?

You're being allowed to mingle with the others. The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.

You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.

Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?

(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)

After a meal — it's hard to say which one you'd call it, since the whole crew is on rotating schedules — you may decide to wander the basecamp. Folks in every department could use a hand. Those willing to help out may get friendlier reception than those who play the tourist. For more info on what else you might find, check out the LOCATIONS page.

During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.

A few notes:

☆ Feel free to help out anywhere. Every little bit of assistance you offer to the locals will raise their estimation of you. You could easily help clean dishes after the meal, help fix leaky piping or repair hammocks. You could stop by the aid station and assist with the wounded. You'll be watched closely and some of the survivors will be warier than others, but most will appreciate the opportunity to have a 'break'.

☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything they see that seems 'human made' will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.

☆ PCs will be warned about going beyond the shade of the dragon's wings. For the sake of the test drive mods will not be facilitating plots that deal with characters going further; we ask that players with an interest in exploring this wait until the game is fully open.

❀ RESCUE MISSION

"There's no time to waste," the woman says breathlessly as she grabs your arm. She pulls you to an augmented reality sand table and you will find yourself standing alongside some of the others you may recognize as having 'hatched' with you. There are murmurs by the Adamant's survivors as they pour over data. Maybe you remember Captain Childe from the stern interrogation she gave you a few days ago, but in any case but she's standing at the edge of the sand table looking at the distance scaled between the enormous huddle of HUD badges — the Adamant's survivors — and a tiny pocket of pulsing green some fifteen kilometers away.

"They knew better," Captain Childe says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "They should have been back hours ago."

"Fucking scientists," says a man with a faintly French accent. He is scarred and battle-worn, and looks properly pissed off. He's also sporting several fresh injuries, one of which seems to have warranted the use of a crutch. "They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached. Let them wait out the storm."

"No," the captain says. "They're too close to the Rat Nest. We don't need a repeat of —" she trails off, as if seeing you for the first time. She looks you up and down, and then: "You've been told by now that everyone here has to pitch in. If you know how to fight, be ready in ten minutes. You're our rescue squad." She turns and walks out, and there's an awkward moment where everyone present is looking at you to make a choice.

Ten minutes really isn't a lot of time to get ready to walk into danger. Or maybe you aren't a fighter. Maybe you just don't care. But either way, there are people looking to you. To see how you'll react. To see what you'll do. To see if you belong.

What'll it be, hatchling? Fight or flight? Maybe you ought to start coming up with a plan.

FIELD WORK

There's a cadre of scientists cut off by acid rain. From their last transmission, they were driven into the Rat Warrens — and you've been tasked with rescuing them. Too many members of the Security Team are themselves injured, and none of the remaining ones have experience leading a fire team. Let's hope you do — or at least that you can fake it.

Maybe you've hand-picked your team. Maybe you're just stuck with whoever else was closest. Either way, your companions are some of the people you might recognize as fellow 'hatchlings'. If you know them already — good, you've got a head start on what they might be capable of out in the field, and you can chat about the little things. You know, like the weather. Acid rain, gotta love it.

Either way. You're given few small slabs of surprisingly lightweight alloy that has a sheet of — is that hide from the Leviathan? — stretched across them, to divide up amongst your team. "Helps with the rain," Ensign Porter says, trying to sound cheerful despite the grim set to his jaw. "Just come back in one piece. I kinda feel responsible for you guys, you know?"

Before you know it, you're outfitted for the trip. Weapons (if you didn't have your own) and maybe some medical supplies, handed over with a grimace by Doc Sunya.

So then it's just you, your tiny team and a fifteen kilometer hike. Oh, and the acid rain. Luckily, the shields seem to be keeping it off, but it's hard to hear anything over the impact of the drops. Anyone want to play I never?

Or maybe you think you should make a break for it. This is your first time being outside the Leviathan unsupervised. You've got supplies, and other people with as little to lose here as you do. Maybe you should talk.

THE RAT WARREN

You've made it to the last transmitted location of the scientists. What you find doesn't bode well — one of them seemed to have an arm torn off — at least, you think it's an arm — the way it's been disintegrated by the rain makes it hard to tell.

One thing's certain, though. There are bloodstains leading into the nearby maw of a hole in the ground. There's a putrid odor wafting from it, and the sound of frantic scrabbling.

You have an idea of what might be down there. 'Giant rats with tentacles', Porter had said. Don't let the tentacles grab you, they leave chemical burns that usually result in amputation if they can't be treated immediately. But there's a chance the scientists are still alive, and you need to make your choice.

If you and your small team venture down into the darkness, what happens next is up to you. You'll be encountering hoards of these monsters. The scientists are still alive, but will they stay that way? And more importantly, can you get them back to the Leviathan in one piece?

PCs versus the local fauna, round one, FIGHT!

A few notes:

☆ Feel free to put player characters 'in charge' of the planning/logistics phase. If another PC tags into your thread, you and that player can decide which PC will be 'leading the charge'.

☆ Your character will have: a mini-railgun, a spear (if they don't have their items/weapons from home), a first-aid kit, the acid rain shields, ration bars (that are essentially condensed protein bars — they do not taste good) and one of the smartwatches, which will have a mini holographic HUD displayable on its interface. If your character is the sort to request other things, feel free to assume they received them (within reason — please remember that resource scarcity is the name of the game — feel free to be creative here!).

☆ There are fifteen kilometers to cover. If your character has an ability like superspeed/etc, please keep in mind it will work, but you also have your allies to consider. Normal walking time over this distance, given the difficulty of the environment (steep hills, acid rain, unknown territory, etc) would translate to several hours to an average person.

☆ Feel free to use the NPC scientists however you'd like. If you want your character to find some dead, you can. If you'd prefer they be rescued, that is also acceptable. These are essentially 'your' NPCs that you are using to facilitate the story at this point — the sky is the metaphoric limit!

❀ BOOZE

A week. You've been here for a week.

By now, you might have tried to venture out of Basecamp Leviathan and experienced firsthand the acid rains that the security officers warned you about. Or you might be teaching the kids at the schoolyard how to gamble. In any event, Thorkil seems to take pity on his disoriented new friends and taps his distillery for a little help.

Invitation passes by word of mouth to meet at the memorial wall. Moonshine of questionable quality is passed around in tin cups — hope no one's afraid of germs — as Thorkil explains the great relief it is to be gaining people instead of losing them. This settlement isn't big, and they aren't overburdened with hope or supplies, but there's been a lot of loss in the past three years. Some people might be willing to look at the arrival of these newcomers as a sign that things are turning around.

Bottoms up, hatchlings, and ... Happy Birthday?

A few notes:

☆ Feel free to turn this into an impromptu party. Maybe you're celebrating getting all the scientists back alive! Maybe it's something like a wake to remember them in the sad event of their passing. Either way, many of the engineers and other NPCs may join you in this moonlight drinking session, as well as whatever PCs you tag out to or are tagged by.)

❀ OBLIGATORY NETWORK

Welcome people of all kinds to Basecamp Leviathan! I'd give you a hand moving in except...

I have no hands.
Because I'm an AI.
Get it?
It's a joke.

My name is Cartagena. But anyway, this isn't about me or the Adamant for once. This is about all of you. So if you would kindly fill out the following questionnaire to get to know each other; it would also be very helpful for my systems.

NOTE: Participation is MANDATORY.

That was another joke. It's all voluntary. You people and your free will.

1. What is your name?
2. Where are you from?
3. What's your favorite smell? Please describe it as you would to a person without a nose. Because I do not have a nose.
4. If you could be any animal in any world, what would you be?
5. How old are you?
6. Did you enjoy this questionnaire?

Thank you for your participation! Please enjoy the rest of your stay here at Basecamp Leviathan.

NAVIGATION ❀

Comments

[wittingly]

( Doesn't matter, he picks up on that voice easily enough considering how sharply he's listening for fucking anything. Actually kind of grates a small part of him that any of them are speaking any louder than Lance did — the more silently they move the less likely they are to be detected — but that's muted and muffled down with the rest of everything else he's feeling-not-feeling.

Add a step to the solution:
Triage the wound.

It must be a double-edged sword, those burns. He's not bleeding out — at least, not very quickly — but the absolute pain he must be in as it slowly eats away at his flesh... Kind of makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, a small and absurd part of him volunteers. Keeps the food source alive and fresh for longer. What he'd really like is to have one of them caged and brought back so he could figure out something to neutralize the shit they secrete, but there's no way in hell that's happening right now. )

Yeah.

( Quickly and easily enough, rifle back at the ready, body angled toward the tunnels with Lance in his peripheral vision.

One of them, a shaky bespeckled man, twitches nervously.
Can't we just go already? You can come back for him. You have a gun, get us the fuck out of here! ​)

No. I need you to sit down and pay attention, please.

( Go back in time and tell him that he'd be using his Classroom Voice to keep people calm at the end of days. It's absolutely fucking stupid how often it works. )

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance holsters his gun, allowing the light to fade out on it for just a moment and shifting his spell to the shield; he probably should've done that earlier, but whatever, they're kind of having to improvise here.

He reaches out to pat Ian's shoulder in passing, trying to reassure him a little while he goes toward the back of the group to see what he can do for the injured man. It's for the best that he isn't quite able to tell what the man with the glasses says, because he would've informed him he's welcome to leave any time if he's so eager to do so, and Ian's way of handling things is a lot better.

Lance kneels next to the injured man, offering him a small smile and a few words of reassurance.]

I think I can help.

[He glances at the woman who's been doing her best so far, and explains to her how to doing a simple pattern of calming breaths; once she's got the idea, and has distracted the injured scientist with the task, Lance turns his attention back to the injury. Okay. He can't exactly fix this, but he can certainly stop the damage from worsening, and he closes his eyes briefly in concentration.

The slow progression of the acid ceases, and so does the bleeding, some of the torn edges of the wound smoothing out. At least now it isn't getting worse, and the edge of the pain is taken off, and now the small assortment of medical supplies he'd been given can come in handy as he covers the injury in preparation for them all to get moving. With any lucky, the scientist will be stable enough not to just to get out of here, but to get safely back to the base.

Which is good, because scrabbling has begun again, from two different passageways.]

[wittingly]

Fuck.

( Probably not the best or most helpful first reaction, but it's mindless and automatic. Bypasses his thinking and falls out of his mouth. The second thing is a little better; voice steady but slightly raised in warning: )

Lance.

( One word, just a name, but it does a plenty effective job at saying they're coming and I need you at the same time.

He's not exactly freezing, so much as this is where decision paralysis comes into play. It mainly kicks in when he's trying to think for a group. One or two people and it comes almost easy. More than that... This is why he isn't a leader. This is why Nia was always in charge, and he always stepped back to offer insight without making the call.

Now, he's trying too hard too fast to identify the problems that come with staying and shooting whatever's coming, or making a run for it. Trying too hard to confidently know the one correct choice, because it's not just himself he's fucking over if he's wrong. Not enough knowledge, not enough time, they need to do something now. )

[lifetothefullest]

[The ringing in Lance's ear is beginning to fade a little, indicating he probably didn't blow the eardrum, which is always a good thing. So although his hearing still isn't good enough to catch the sounds of more rats, he can catch both what Ian says and, more importantly, the tone.

So he turns away from the injured man and the scientist who's helping, the latter taking over the bandages, and he gets to his feet to rejoin Ian. Now, turned the right way, he can hear the motion, and he glances over at Ian.]

As soon as they all come into this tunnel I'm going to surprise them, and then we're all going to run. Do you think you could collapse the ceiling behind us?

[wittingly]

( It's a good strategy, it's smart, no glaring flaws spring into his mind. Nothing for him to turn over and double-triple-quadruple guess. Enough confidence restored to keep him going without stumbling out of that necessary state of calm. )

I can. It won't hold them for very long, they burrow-- well. Obviously. But it should buy us enough time to get out. Especially if--

( He dips down quickly, plucking a shield away from the scientist, who lets out an affronted, hey!

He frisbee's it down the non-escape-route tunnel. It doesn't make for much of a wall, particularly considering how thin he has to bend it to cover the surface area, but it's something. Every little bit helps.

He exhales a steadying breath, then shoots Lance a nod.

Ready. )

[lifetothefullest]

[He nods in understanding; just slowing them down should be enough, and having a plan in place makes his own confidence stay settled so that he can focus. They've got this.

He looks away from the path ahead only for a moment in order to figure out what Ian's doing, but then he realizes he's blocked off a tunnel, and good. They're going to be down a shield when they get out in the rain, but that isn't a problem--they'll just need to account for that--and it's well worth it to have one less thing to focus on here and now.

Lance nods again at Ian, gun still holstered, and he's only still holding his shield so as to have a light source. His attention is on the tunnel ahead of them, looking more than listening, but it's becoming clear another wave of those things is about to arrive.

And then they do, a whole group just like before, and Lance steps in front of Ian just to make absolutely sure he has a clear shot before his holds up a hand. Lightning arcs with a cracking sound, lighting up the whole tunnel briefly, lancing not just through the rat in the front but all of them behind it, one by one. It lasts only a brief moment, but then there's silence for a second more before Lance breaks it.]

Okay. Time to go.

[wittingly]

What the ever-loving fuck...

( A disbelieving murmur from somewhere just behind Lance, detachment and fear and all those other things momentarily replaced by pure, unadulterated bewilderment.

It's not so much that he doesn't kick it into gear behind their group of running scientists, he's still in line and attentive with his gun at the ready.

He's just. ​)

Are you fucking-- you could have maybe mentioned that you were Harry fucking Potter this whole time.

( Called forward over the sound of thudding feet between them and scrabbling behind them. Making a pretty light is one thing. Barbecuing a fucking flock of rats with lightning shooting out of your hands is a whole different league.

He doesn't collapse the tunnel instantly — it'll absolutely fuck them if he screws with the precarious structural integrity in here and accidentally brings the entire thing collapsing down onto their heads.

He waits until they pass an intersection. Lets himself lag behind a few yards. Lets them put as much distance as they can between themselves and the inevitable drop, and as soon as the urgency starts to hit him a little too hard, he glows blue and yanks.

Stone and dirt and tree roots cave in with all the vengeance of pissed-off gravity, and... yeah, he fucking books it half a second later. )

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance only gets like half that--something about Harry Potter--and so mostly ignores it, much more focused on leading the way out and making sure none of the scientists get lost in the process. But it goes smoothly, and he turns back near the opening of the tunnel just in time to see Ian bring the roof of the cavern down, and honestly that's just as cool as the lightning. Look at them. Pair of badasses over here.

Which Lance would inform Ian of, but first he has to double check that the scientists are shielding themselves before heading out into the rain; it seems that they are, thankfully, coordinating to cover both the injured man and the person whose shield Ian had commandeered.

And soon the scientists are out of the tunnel and into the rain, and Lance turns back to make sure Ian is joining him. Once they're out of the tunnel, rain thundering down on their shields, he offers Ian a small grin.]

Mission accomplished.

[They both need to hold off any freaking out for just a little while longer, until they're back at the base, so for now they might as well try to feel a well-earned sense of relief.]

[wittingly]

( Real badasses, totally — except to qualify for that he'd probably have to feel the same good humor Lance does or Nate likely would. Instead, he feels the creeping threat of losing his hold on that steady detachment. He's not sure if there's a word for preemptively feeling dread over the inevitability of an anxiety crash, but in any case he's at least managing it. It's just that he's rusty, is all. He used to get practice at this twice a week, now the last time he felt it...

Well, it was the Aerie, but discounting that, it was when monsters roamed the streets of New Amsterdam unchecked. Not nearly enough to flex his Keep Your Shit Together muscles.

It's fine. He's got it. He's fine. At the very least, he can project the appearance of being fine. Keep that chill in his posture, in the slowness of his speech, in his tone. A little less default amusement than normal, but nobody could blame him for that.

He glances at Lance once, shooting him a huff of a laugh and a tired-looking smile. )

Yeah. Nice work, man.

( And then his eyes are back on the road ahead.

Next steps:
Get back to the compound.
Find something to drink.

Just, like, two shots and then he'll be fine. That's generally enough to stop it in its tracks. )

[lifetothefullest]

[That is such an unenthusiastic response, at least compared to what Lance would typically expect from Ian, that when combined with everything else so far it's not difficult to figure out there's reason for some concern. So Lance frowns a little when Ian's gaze returns to the way back, considering what to do for just a few moments before stepping a little closer and carefully nudging his arm with an elbow.]

You too. We handled that, the scientists are going to be okay, and so are we.

[It feels important to say, especially if things are feeling surreal or distant to Ian right now, because it's an accomplishment. Things went okay. Even though it won't stop the inevitable hit of compartmentalizing while in the situation, it still means the worst is over.

He'd ask if Ian wants to talk about it, but between the rain and his ear still ringing a bit he doesn't think he can have the best conversation at the moment. But once they're back to the base, he's so going to be asking about feelings.]

[wittingly]

( There are, of course, quite a few differences between where he came from and where he is now. Setting aside, Ian wasn't exactly close to anybody back at Crater Lake. He had a good understanding and comradery with his TA, but Luke only ever saw the same side of the veil he presents to the rest of the world. He slept with quite a few people, some of them repeatedly, but there was always a clear delineation between what happens at night and who they are to each other after sunrise. The end of the world is the wrong time to get attached to somebody in any real way.

But there's Nate, and there's Lance — and that weirdly legit mutual agreement bond thing they have going. It's not something he's factored into his strategy yet. It's an unpredictable variable, he suddenly realizes. It's dumb as fuck, but just an innocuous gentle nudge kind of makes him teeter internally. A muted pang, because he's got no thick callouses built up against things like genuine support. ​)

Yeah, well. What can I say?

( He's wearing his best I'm about to say some dumb shit voice. )

I'm kind of the leading expert on giant rats with tentacles. That's what I wrote my thesis about. Really weird subject for an engineering degree, especially since they don't actually exist on earth, but... sometimes you just gotta follow your passion.

( Shrug.

The more he talks, the more convincing he generally is about being totally fine. Which he is. )

[lifetothefullest]

[That is definitely some dumb shit, at least what he can parse out of it, and Lance raises his eyebrows slightly at the rambling before giving Ian that 'I know what you're doing but I'll allow you to do it for now' look.]

Okay I got like, half of that, but now I'm curious about what your actual thesis was.

[Some ridiculous back and forth conversation might just be the best thing for both of them at the moment, especially since walking in silence leaves far too much time for wandering thoughts.]

[wittingly]

( Guess who's totally not going to look at that face or acknowledge it in any way? This guy. If he doesn't see it, it doesn't exist, even if his peripheral vision tries to drag it into view.

Making him talk about his work is a pretty effective method, though — especially since he already uses it to repress feelings on a long-term basis.

He huffs out a kind of self-deprecating laugh. )

Prepare to have your world rocked.

( Dryly. That is the sound of a man who knows he's about to bore the hell out of somebody. )

It was about how to mitigate energy inefficiencies due to transformer losses. I'm not sure which one's sexier, tentacle rats or heat losses and eddy currents in primary and secondary conductors.

[lifetothefullest]

[That expression that Ian's ignoring shifts into one that's similar in that his eyebrows are raised, but completely the opposite in terms of understanding and seeing through him. Lance has exactly zero idea what Ian's talking about, and is not bothering to hide that.]

Even if I could hear like, more than every other word, I'd still have no idea what you're saying to me.

[wittingly]

( He manages to shoot Lance exactly one wry, flickering glance. Not long enough that he has to admit to understanding what his expression means, though. You can pry his willful ignorance from his cold, dead hands. )

Don't worry, you're not missing much.

( Even people in his field found it boring as shit.

Prime opportunity to turn-about deflect, though. )

What was yours?

[lifetothefullest]

I'll take your word for it.

[He'll allow the deflecting for now, though he still has to be difficult about it by asking--]

For which degree?

[wittingly]

Shut the fuck up.

( Returned almost immediately, good-natured and playing at put-upon. )

You know, when I said to bring that up all the time, I meant to other people. I'm supposed to have preferential treatment.

( But just to cover his bases: )

Both.

[lifetothefullest]

[That earns a grin from Lance, especially since he can, even more annoyingly, respond with--]

'Both' is not an appropriate answer. How many degrees do you think I have?

[wittingly]

( Wow.

Lance. )

If you get any more smug I'm getting you one of those rats as a pet.

( Excuse him for being a reasonable person and assuming normal people stop at two. )

What's the tally, then? Seven? Eight? I was always terrible at The Price is Right.

[lifetothefullest]

[He laughs at the threat, though it's more from the relief settling in that they're in a position to be having this stupid conversation in the first place than because it's actually funny.]

Just four, though one's the undergrad degree. I have a masters and two doctorates, so technically one thesis and two dissertations.

[Unless you count undergrad theses, but no one should.]

[wittingly]

Oh, just four, huh?

( Of course, how silly of him. He seems way too amused by the answer. He can still feel the subtle tension in his shoulders and his hands, gripping the shield above him just a little too tightly, but this is... good. It's helping him maintain with less of a struggle than he'd probably have in silence. He'd be wrestling with his own mind without this distraction.

Just a few more minutes. Just a little while longer. )

How about you pick two and we'll see if I can wrap my head around either of them?

[lifetothefullest]

[Good, the distraction is working, and although Lance is keeping some attention on their surroundings just in case something dangerous--more than the acid rain, anyway--appears they can deal with it, it seems like they're in the clear. They just have to make it back to the base, and that's how long they have to hold it together, so a distraction in the meantime is good.]

Okay, um, my master's thesis was about possible methods of reducing the development of comorbid conditions in people with PTSD. One of my doctoral dissertations was about the psychological profiles and behavioral patterns of individuals who'd overcome extreme adversity.

[And neither of these subjects are even slightly telling, so don't analyze them too much.]

[wittingly]

That... suddenly explains so much.

( He muses, shaking his head a little.

Granted, Lance has been a gentle probing figure since Ian met him, but knowing now what he'd been primarily focused on... Yeah, it makes sense.

It also makes him a little aware that he probably looks like a fitting candidate for both topics, which is less than stellar. Just gonna super casually refocus on the path ahead. It's rainy, you know? Easy to slip. Wouldn't want that. )

Way more interesting than mine, I'll give you that.

[lifetothefullest]

Does it?

[He asks the question lightly, mostly to be purposefully annoying but also to test the waters just a little. Not that he expects much of an actual answer, but still.

As for the last comment--]

That just depends on the audience; my friends would probably find your topic much more interesting than mine.

[In fact he's pretty sure Brennan would be very pleased by a topic that was 'real science' and not 'near complete guesswork.']

[wittingly]

( He puffs out another breath, not quite a laugh. Close, though. ​)

Well, at least you're consistent with your taste in friends. I'm taking that as a compliment.

( No further commentary on Lance's specialty, just as he expected. Maybe he'd have more to say if he felt as calm internally as he's putting out externally. A few observations on interactions he's seen Lance have, if not with himself then with others.

But yeah, right now his brain only gets as far as 'nope' on the subject. )