coquaigne | [IC] [voice post]

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Current Location: fourth floor

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[IC] [voice post]

[begin voice post]

[Murmured, nearly inaudible.] H--Horatio? The pain, it's--

[A long pause, marked with fumbling noises, and then a sharp intake of breath.] Lord, that's a grand spread--hm? [A beeping noise.] "Recording"? Recording what? [The sound of a few keys being hit, essentially at random.] What is this thing anyw--

[end voice post]

((ooc: Wakes up at a buffet with a laptop. SO MUCH FOOD. SO CONFUSING. Will get better at writing Archie when it's not midnight-thirty.))

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[Bush doesn't answer, biting into the food, his answer is obvious in how quickly be begins to eat. After finishing off a drumstick, he nods his head, giving a grunt of concession.] Haven't eaten like this since I made Lieutenant.

[After recovering from the bout of gorging himself, Bush throws a dismissive look towards Archie's computer.] At the time, it seemed the perfectly right course of action, Mr Kennedy.

[Cough cough cough cough serious face is serious.]

[Om nom nom, food. Archie takes the opportunity to tear into his own helping.]

[He glances over at the computer as well, and makes no effort to hide a smile.] Perfectly natural, seeing how threatening an apparatus it is.

[Archie may or may not start slightly when he hits the "N" key on it and its screen suddenly lights up once more, though.]

[Bush just frowns at Archie, giving his best eyeroll without actually rolling his eyes (because that would be undignified). It's all in the slant of the eyebrows.]

[Though he starts a bit, once Archie makes the screen suddenly and predictably change!] What did you do? [Yes, he is glaring at the computer, what of it?]

I only touched it! I don't know what it did.

[He peers at it some more, frowning.] What is a 'google,' do you think?

[Bush narrows his eyes, trying to get on eye-level with the machine.] It doesn't seem you've managed to break it, if the... color is any indication.

Google... Perhaps it is the French?

No, I suppose I have not. What is it supposed to do now, though? [They are nearly head to head at this point, both staring at the thing.]

[Archie racks through his memories and comes up wanting.] If it is, I do not recognize it.

Don't ask me. I know how to make it shut up, and that's that.

[Bush looks over at Archie for a moment, nodding. He didn't know Archie knew French, but it's not that surprising. Plenty of officers know.] Mayhaps you should try... touching it again?

[Archie gives him one of those curt sorts of "aye aye, sir" nods and hits another key. And it shows up in the search bar. Cue noise of surprise followed by an expression of understanding. He starts talking under his breath as he carefully hits each letter in turn with one index finger.]

...R. C. H. I. E--damn.

[He frowns at the keyboard, and then the screen, on which reads "archiw."] I wonder how you go about correcting mistakes.

[Bush nods, the face of seriousness. Given a task, completing it is obviously the most important thing.]

Doubtless I'd wager on trying some of the unknown symbols, Mr Kennedy. [He leans back, finally, in his chair, surveying the scene from afar.]

[He tries to use the € and ends up with "archiw4."] No good. Perhaps...curdle?

[Turns out that hitting the "ctrl" key doesn't do anything. Neither does "alt," but when he hits the one shaped like a waving flag, the start menu comes up. Archie knocks his head against Bush's, come in close once more, when it happens. It's going to take a bit before the damned thing stops startling him.] Oh! I apologize.

[Bush quite happily leans back again, sour-faced, to rub at the spot on his forehead where he's been assaulted. He shakes his head, slow and dismissive, to any apology, but stands after a moment, noting:]

It seems the only option left is to press every spot on that thing and see what it does. I'll leave you to that. [Brb, getting more food.]

[Archie is willing to do as told, but none of them close the start menu. By the time Bush returns, he has taken to hitting the keys at random, as they don't seem to be doing anything of use.]

And I believe it is your turn to fiddle with it, for I would like to try the gooseberry pudding. [Playing with computers is hungry work. He stands up.] Please don't challenge it to a duel while I'm away.

[Bush pokes at his food for a moment before looking up, replying with his best thin-lipped glare.] Of course, Mr Kennedy.

[He leans in front of it, not touching anything for fear of making it angry again.] You had noticed it says your name up here, had you not? [Have you ever heard Bush's voice, completely bored, before? Well, now you have.]

Does it?

[Archie comes back with several other dessert-ish things in addition to gooseberry pudding, as well as a fresh tankard of ale, and gives it a glance.] And so much the worse for it, if it insists on listing my entire name. [Because I want someone to be all "lol Archibald" here, dammit.]

[And he belatedly remembers the arrow, but as he hasn't quite figured out clicking, he merely moves it around the screen ineffectually.]

[Bush's eyes follow the arrow around the screen, still frowning.] Odd that it knew your name. [Horatio would surely grasp the implications of this development automatically; Bush can only shrug at them, pondering loosely.]

Have you explored any more of this place, beside this room, and this... thing, Mr Kennedy? I wonder at what other marvels it would hold.

Quite. I suppose that means it was meant for me to have?

[Archie's attention is drawn away from the computer, though his fingers are still running over the touchpad.] I have not; I'd time to get some supper and talk through this thing-- [And he taps the touchpad, and suddenly, the start menu is gone. And so he's staring back at the screen once more.] --did you see that? It went away again. [He can't hide the note of pride at making the menu disappear.]

Indeed. And congratulations on your find. [Oh, wry tones.]

[Bush's eyebrows quirk up at this new development.] What did you do to make it appear in at first?

Thank you. [Oh, cheeky grins.] This means you beat the one likely meant for you to death; my sympathies for your loss.

[He points to the Window key but doesn't press it again.] I touched the one that looks like a banner. Its purpose is beyond me, though.

I think I can make do without one of my own, though thank you for kindly expressing your concern. [All said with a completely straight face, if not for that slight tilt of his head, and the tone of his voice, signaling the jest.]

[He hovers his hand over the menu key.] If I may, Mr Kennedy?

And you are always welcome to borrow mine, of course. [Oh, Bush, you and your subtle lols.]

[He moves his hands out of his way.] At your leisure, Mr Bush.

Should we ever see to these devices holding any merit or use, I shall be happy to. [But now, all attention goes back to the matter at hand. Bush presses the menu button, and...]

[Well, there's the menu. He presses it again, and it disappears. And again, making the menu reappear for the third time.] I can't for the life of me imagine any point to this. [He presses the button a few more times, bored again.]

[Archie hmmms at this and realizes he did not think to press the button a second time. Oops.] It is a fine trick. Perhaps it is a toy for children.

[Why they were given them remains a question in that case, though.] But since it will not reveal its secrets to us, it might be more satisfying to explore, as you suggested.

I should like to see the child who could understand this mess. [Bush takes a final bite of his potatoes and nods, standing.]

I would be most amendable, Mr Kennedy. We can find you a neck cloth, you are aware you are indecent? [He himself is shuffling back into his coat, the lapels of which hide the quirk to his mouth.]

As would I; he could explain it to us.

[Archie stands likewise and waits while Bush puts his coat back on.] I had noticed, yes. I suppose we must hope for a tailor's run by the angels of the Lord.

[Pistol(s): check. Sword: check. Coat: check. Bush puts his hat under his arm and nods,] And I suppose I'll be needing more than one pair of trousers, if I'm expected to stay here for any length of time.

After you, Mr Kennedy.

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