Casual Inquiries

The Three Brewers: A modest bar on one of the main streets. Not too big, not too loud. Great place for many office workers to come unwind after a day at the office. It is operated by three mechs who each operate a different aspect of the business (Brewing/Distilling, Marketing, Bartending).

The interior is simple with many round tables that come in 4 and 8 seats format. On the far left side sitting alone is Skids who is nursing a large format enerbrew while reading from a datapad.

An unimposing mech of orange and white and black enters, collects a drink, and then turns to find a place to sit. There are certainly other options for him that don't include cornering Skids -- and yet, that is just what he does. He slides into a seat opposite him with a sunny, "Hello. Do you mind?" Hope not. He's already sat down. He has a friendly manner -- almost oppressively so. Just on the inside of his wrist, obscured by his glass, is a tracing of some sort of inscription. He wears an autobrand. We're all friends here!

Skids does not look startled but raises an eyebrow (not as imposing as Rung's but still visible) "I do not know for which senator your work for but as I told my boss. I am not done reviewing the notes from the last meeting so 'NO' you cannot get a sneak preview or 'advanced notice' or any other political circus maneuver to get them before everyone else."

Trepan laughs. "No. Sorry. I'm sure you have some incredibly valuable notes, but I'm not in the market. Are they really that sought-after, though?" He gestures at Skids with his hand turned down in a placating gesture. He tilts his head, light flashing off the goggles perched there like a second set of watchful eyes: cold, distant. "Your name is Skids, right?"

Skids locks the datapad to prevent any snooping and sets it down. "You would not believe the slag some people would do to have a tiny advantage in the political arena. Specially these days." The mech grabs a sip from the massive enerbrew which is more like a half-pitcher. Not much has been drunk however. He ponders throwing this one on a wild chase but sometimes the truth is the harshest light. "Indeed I am. And you are?"

"Politics." Trepan dismisses it all with a flick of his fingers. He lowers his hand back to his drink with a point-by-point clicker-clack of his fingertips on the side of the glass. "No offense." Again, he smiles. "My name is Trepan. Don't worry: I don't expect you'd have heard of me." His smile briefly widens. "But I seem to recall you were one of Senator Shockwave's students, weren't you?"

Skids feels a little chill but keeps it under control. The mech sitting across him does not have the enforcer profile. He could be a scout. Keeping his gaze even he takes another sip giving him time to analyze the situation. "I was studying at the Jihaxus Academy of Advanced Technology as a Theoretician. I did come across Senator Shockwave on occasion. He had some interesting theories in various fields. Made for nice case analysis for me." Time to turn the table "What about yourself? Who do you work for?"

"Oh, me?" Trepan tilts his head with a funny sort of smile. "I work at a relinquishment clinic." He leans forward, brightening. "Two-for-one special if you bring a friend! Interested in expanding your options for a little while?" It certainly explains why he comes off as such a /salesmech/, anyway. One of those ones who won't leave you alone. No matter how many times you say you are just looking. "The Senator certainly has a mind ahead of his time. Did you have much of a chance to study with him?"

Skids waves off the clinic speech "No thanks. I like my body and mind where they are right now." He decides to throw another bone in before yanking a bit. "A little bit but not much. I do theories, extrapolations. My job is construct and deconstruct ideas to find flaws before they become actual problems." He takes another sip and withholds a small grin. "What I do find interesting is coming up with a theory as to why a salesmech from a relinquishment clinic is asking a Theoretician/Senatorial aide about a teacher at an academy who was recently torched." He gives Trepan a few seconds to process this. "So...What is your stake in this?"

Trepan looks visibly taken aback when Skids yanks the steering wheel out of his hands. His fingers flex, then curl around his glass. He lifts it to take a long sip. "Well, little as I like politics, Senator Shockwave was always worth watching. Not that interesting, I'm afraid," he says with pitiful false modesty. "You must be very clever. And yet you take notes? Why?"

Skids grins a bit at the question but also at having scored a hit in the verbal fencing match. "The notes are not for me. They are for whoever else needs to understand my work. If someone asks me to review a theory they need to see my notes as to what works, what does not, they whys and the odds. Ideas are easy to come by but much harder to put into practice than most people realize."

Trepan's smile has a somewhat fixed quality in comparison to Skids's grin: less an expression, more a permanent feature. "You must be quite the theoretician, then, if the Senate calls on you," he says in a flattering tone. "Can you give an example? I'm not sure I follow your work."

Skids smiles as this question falls into his function. He lets the flattery go by but takes notes mentally. "Theories are not always about science. They can also be social. A good example would be say a Senator wants to propose a new law. I and others like me will deconstruct the law. Check for loopholes to close. Check if they go against other laws currently being applied. Then we have to propose a model as to the effects of the said laws. Will the law be cost-effective to enforce? If not by how much must the budget be adjusted? How will the population respond? How will opposing senator respond?" He takes a quick sip "We take all that put it together and form a working theory with alot of ifs and buts and conditions but...by the time we are done we usually have a working model. At that point the senators must decide if they want to go ahead and under which conditions."

Unfortunately, it must be admitted that Trepan gets a slightly ... glazed look as Skids explains. He seems to be paying more attention to Skids himself than to his words. "That sounds a lot more straight-forward and logical than gossip would have you believe." His smile widens to a grin. "How long did you study?" is not necessarily that innocuous a question, now, is it?

Skids knows Trepan is smart and he cannot pretend not to remember. Not someone who has such an accurate memory so he throws a number out there without hesitation. "Four years and a half. Technically still had 1.5 years to go before finishing my training." He looks a bit sad "I hope they catch whoever torched the academy. Now I have to finish my work in sub-standard facilities."

It would take a close eye to note it, but Trepan looks first surprised, then disappointed by this perfectly reasonable and not at all suspicious answer. "Ah." Even his smile fades, but he draws up another like another might take a breath: "I'm sure that the Senate has their best on it. It's terrible, the way institutions of learning and healing are being targeted by vandals and terrorists, don't you think?" And yet, though he makes conversation, he no longer seems as interested in Skids's answer. He glances away.

Skids nods "Yes it is a shame. The future is built upon knowledge. Destroying learning institutions is just holding us back as a people." Skids takes a sip and gently puts the half-pitcher back down trying to angle the glass to see what Trepan is looking at. A silhouette of someone maybe or something?

No one in particular, unfortunately. That might be forgivable. Having received an answer suggesting that Skids is just a plain, old, boring smart guy, Trepan's attention has turned out with distracted boredom. He glances at this person, that: his gaze moves without lingering on anyone for long. It's just insulting. Skids is way better company than that deserves. "Yes, that it is. Oh -- excuse me. I need to check in with someone over there. Nice to meet you, Skids. Let me know if you ever change your mind. We always have new and interesting specials!"

Skids nods at Trepan a bit relieved at having escaped the spotlight or so he hopes. "Yes I will do that. Any particular place I can reach you?"

/For now/. Surely if Trepan just happens to look up information on Skids's time as a student it will match with his answer, right? "Oh, yes!" Trepan briefly transfers the full force of his attention (and his smile) back to Skids. He names a relinquishment clinic, describes the address, and says, "Just poke your head in when I'm in and I can be sure to get you the best possible deal."

Skids does not need a card he will remember the face, the name and the address. And yes the time frame from the academy will match if the records are still available given the place burned down. "I do not expect to need a relinquishment clinic in the near future but it is always nice to keep one's options open."

"Well." Trepan rises to his feet with a drag of his fingertips scratching along the surface of the table. Light as the touch is, it does not mar the finish. "I'll hope to hear from you again soon, then. Enjoy your drink!" Collecting his glass, he strolls off in search of a better mark.