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Harley Quinn ([info]harleygirl) wrote in [info]expresslogs,
@ 2012-06-24 16:19:00

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Entry tags:{harley quinn, {james moriarty, {malcolm tucker

Characters: Harley Quinn, Jim Moriarty, Malcolm Tucker
When: Sunday Afternoon
Location: Rear sleeper car area, moving to the Library Car
Warnings/Rating: Language almost definitely. :)
Summary: Team We're Not Gonna Take It has a power meeting.
Status: Closed/Ongoing



Harley was not doing very well.

She'd snagged some food from the Snack Car earlier- but it wasn't enough, and it certainly didn't feel healthy. She hadn't slept much. She'd kept to her room. She was a woman on a mission, and that mission was to find answer.

Now here she was, searching out the cabin of a person she didn't even like, who appeared to have been either laughing at her or hitting on her, because he and one other person might be the only other sane people on this train. That wasn't really a train. She had to keep reminding herself of that, when constantly faced with the gentle rocking motion under her feet, and the sound of wind that wasn't really wind whistling past the cars that weren't really cars.

It was a very good illusion. But that was all it could be.

She'd come this far before, although she didn't remember the name JAMES MORIARTY emblazoned on the door. Then again, it wasn't exactly memorable, was it? Not like Jaz Parks.

Oh, this was going to be unpleasant. He was probably going to leer at her. If she was lucky, the other gentleman would already be waiting for them in the library car. Steeling herself, Harley knocked once on the door, then skittered back a step, her hands twining together anxiously as she looked back and forth.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-24 11:46 pm UTC (link)
Lolling on the bed in his empty room - which did seem to be his, if the nameplate was any indication - Jim looked up drowsily, hearing the scuttling outside his door. Marvelous, he'd seen that Holmes boy write, and Jim bit back a laugh. It was delicious.

There was more reason for this meeting than just to see whether or not the others on this "train" were going to be any fun at all. A train, moving through a black and white landscape? "Real" was not the first word that popped into anyone's head. Even Jim Moriarty's.

He could hear her through the door, tight breath and clenching fists. Or maybe he imagined it. He hadn't imagined the brisk and brittle tone she'd taken with him, even in text. Now now, Jim. Don't grin. Time to be a professional.

"Dr. Quinzel." He swept the door open abruptly, expression a picture of concern. "I would say it's a pleasure, but, well-" he gestured up and down the hallway, motes of dust scattering through the air at the whisk of his hand. "I'm finding all this rather- unsettling." He turned his eyes toward the ground, biting his lip. It was so much more difficult to laugh than it ought to have been. Unprecedented situations were no excuse.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-24 11:58 pm UTC (link)
She hadn't been expecting him to- burst out of the room like that. A very quiet squeak of surprise escaped Harley's mouth as she stumbled back a step; but her back straightened, and she shrugged her Professional demeanor back on almost instantly.

"Mr.-" she glanced at the door again. "Moriarty." Her voice was nearly steady there. "Yes. 'Unsettling' is something of an understatement. Though it is nice to know there are others on the train who feel the same way." Now her tone was dry. She could do this. She could stand there in a train that wasn't a train, in front of a man who was very nicely dressed, in the tank top and jeans she'd woken up in the day before, without even shoes.

She could do this. She just wished for a sweater. A nice sweater.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 12:07 am UTC (link)
He noticed her feet, of course, but he focused on the ground, fingers of his left hand playing over the thumb like a nervous twitch. He sighed; the relief of slipping into a new persona was at once comforting and exciting.

And this doctor. One sentence, and he was desperate to hear more. Delicious, indeed.

"Of course it's unsettling," he muttered, voice quavering a little. "Call me Jim, please." He offered a hand that shook only a little, eyes glancing nervously at the ground again. "I'll get myself together, don't worry. I have lots of ideas. But for now it's just- nice to see another determined face." He peered up the hall again, then met Dr. Quinzel's eyes; just a hint of a smile. Just a touch.

"You'll lead the way?"

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 12:12 am UTC (link)
Well. He wasn't laughing or leering. Maybe she'd just been reading too much into the text of their conversation. Harley's shoulder's relaxed a little, and her smile suddenly felt more natural.

"Jim. And- please, call me Harley. Everyone does." It felt silly to keep insisting on her title when, clearly, this was not a work-related stunt. She shook his hand firmly, once, then let go and took a step back.

"It's this way. Through a couple of cars." Her head tilted in the direction of the library car. "I did a little exploring yesterday, to find where they keep the food." A thought struck her, and Harley's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Have you eaten?"

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 12:19 am UTC (link)
"I have. I have, Harley, thank you. I'm not sure I could eat even if I were hungry." Another shaky smile, and he closed his cabin door quietly, prepared to set down the hall after her. Food. Who cared.

The train - whether or not it was "really a train", it certainly seemed to be - had a gentle sway he'd already become accustomed to, and as they walked, his eyes stayed wide, taking everything in. "I didn't dare explore on my own. You're a brave woman, Ms- Harley. Those network devices are very convenient." If he could strip them open, even more so. "Though they do suggest we were placed here deliberately. As does the name plate on my door. How long did you say you'd been here?"

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 12:32 am UTC (link)
"Two days." A shaky laugh escaped Harley's mouth before she could stop it. "Two fairly long days." She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, then back down at the floor as they walked.

"I'm not brave. I just got hungry." Her laugh this time felt slightly more normal. At least her Professional voice seemed to be working correctly. Harley hated the way her voice sounded normally- like she was approximately six, rather than being a grown woman- and had gotten used to speaking at a slightly lower register years ago. It was practically unconscious, now. "I thought at first about refusing to eat, but- then it seemed ridiculous." She looked down at her hands, still twined together.

"What about you? A day?" She frowned a little. "The name plates are- I believe someone was trying to be funny with mine. Yours has your proper name, right? Jim is a nickname. But mine has- well. My name is Harleen, Harleen Quinzel, but I go by Harley. And if you drop the end off Quinzel, you get-" she paused, pulling open the door at the end of the sleeper car for her companion.

"Harley Quinn. Like the clown doll." Her eyes rolled a little. "I've heard it before, more than once. I don't think it's funny. That's what they put on mine. My name plate, I mean." Was she babbling?

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 01:58 am UTC (link)
"Some time last night. It was day where I was, but they'd have needed time to transport me to wherever we are." Did this girl ever stop talking? Doctor or not, it was impossible to think of her as anything so grown as a woman. Jim stifled a yawn.

"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep." More rooms stretched out before them, and he had to admit, privately, that it was a brilliant way to torture idiots. Endless hallways. This girl had been here two days, if she was to be believed, and she still shook with the temperament of a newborn foal. Determination was a quality, though. So was desperation, more importantly. He itched, just for a moment, to grab her by her ponytail.

"I'm sure whoever's brought us here has all sorts of reasons for their little jokes," he said instead, following her dutifully, his voice on edge. "There must be a reason we're all here."

And of course there didn't have to be. That would be even more wonderful than Jim dared hope; best to get the Conference of Sanity out of the way before he started anything. Which reminded him-

"Is there a cocktail car?"

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 03:18 am UTC (link)
"It's all right; I haven't slept much either. And there must be," Harley agreed. "A reason. And that's the first step to figuring out how to get out of here- their motivation for doing it."

Harley paused, her hand on the door to the next train, and looked up at her companion incredulously. "A- cocktail car?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "Not that I've seen- but I haven't explored the whole train. Why?" Was drowning themselves in alcohol really productive at the moment?

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 03:25 am UTC (link)
"Curiosity is my curse. And whiskey never hurt settling the nerves, in my experience." Jim allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "Don't worry, doctor, I'm not an alcoholic. Or maybe I am- you're the professional. Maybe the train will make me one." He leaned in a little closer, whispering, a conspiratorial eyebrow raised.

"Did you see the things some of them said? They think this place wishes them harm."

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 03:36 am UTC (link)
Harley leaned away from Jim almost instinctively, attempting to keep a certain amount of space between them, and then ducked through the door to the next car like a deer scurrying away from a grinning wolf.

Damn. She'd forgotten her tablet; her phone was in her pocket, but it would be nice to have something she could really hold on to. Not that Jim was- bad, exactly. He was as freaked out as the rest of them. The weird feeling she kept getting was just her being paranoid.

"It's- understandable," she said, when he had caught up and her voice was firmly under control again. "They've been here a long time, and there aren't any apparent captors for them to sympathize with. Stockholm Syndrome, but in an absence of other humans, their minds fixate on the train." Supposed train.

She nodded toward the door at the end of the hallway. "This is the last car with rooms in it. We're only two away from the library."

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 03:52 am UTC (link)
Jim didn't bother pointing out they weren't sympathizing with the train so much as blaming it. The questions were for Ms. Quinzel, and he was learning enough.

Maybe she wasn't a very good doctor. She certainly didn't have the detachment psychiatrists seemed to pride themselves on. All that scuttling. So embarrassingly simple. Still.

"Thank you for taking me into your confidence. Harley. Really. I was beginning to think this entire place was stuffed exclusively with the incurably insane." He fell into a comfortably-distanced pace behind her, rather than see her scurrying away again. Fun for later. "We will find a way off, won't we."

He seemed a grim mixture of determination and anxiety. God, but it would be good to find somewhere he could really laugh.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 04:08 am UTC (link)
"Yes," Harley said, her own voice grim with determination, "We will."

She opened the last door and blinked, stepping through. She'd nearly forgotten about this car. She hadn't really been paying attention, but- was that a little bar in the corner? "Well," Harley said, attempting to lighten her tone a little, "We seem to have found your cocktail car."

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 04:22 am UTC (link)
"How lovely. At least it's a luxurious prison." And if he was going to discuss... well, anything with The Other Holmes Boy later, there were adequate cozy dark corners in which to gauge the man's intent. Not to mention his worth. Jim walked carefully toward the bar, flashing a nervous smile in the girl's direction.

"You don't think it's poisoned, do you?" He held up a bottle - too small and damned near unserviceable, ugh - of what purported to be scotch, trying not to make a face. "You ate the food, after all. I really could stand to relax. Just a little." No chance. No chance in the world, wherever they were, and a thrill of excitement ran down his spine.

"Would you like anything, Dr. Quinn? Quinzel. Harley." He stumbled over her names like he'd tripped on the syllables, eyes beseeching forgiveness.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 04:29 am UTC (link)
She really couldn't blame him for that one. He was- probably very nice. They had common goals, at least. She was just still feeling paranoid. And she hadn't eaten or slept enough, the last two days. It was making her feel jittery. That was all.

"It's unlikely to be poisoned. If they wanted to kill us, why set this whole thing up?" The voice of reason, she could still manage that, at least. "Um- no, thank you." Not on a stomach as empty as hers was; she'd be drunk after one glass, and that was no way to start a strategy meeting. "But you go ahead, if you like."

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 04:40 am UTC (link)
The library car wasn't in and of itself much different from the rest of the train as he'd seen it so far, and he set the bottle and three glasses - she might change her mind, after all - at the nearest flat surface, which happened to be a chess table. Quiet pull of a chair, and he gestured for her to sit.

"Well. If our government minister turns up, what will we have to say? The windows in my room were solid. We could ask if anyone holding a grudge against the train would be willing to punch them open?" He shook his head, smiling again. "Not that I would suggest using someone's mental illness against them, doctor."

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 05:09 am UTC (link)
Harley couldn't sit, not quite yet; she moved to a bookshelf, eyes idly sliding over titles as she listened to Jim speak.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she said, absently. "We need real, firm, hypotheses. Identify variables so we can test one at a time. Who is behind this? Where are we? How are they controlling this? What, exactly, is being done here?" This was all fiction. Not that Harley didn't enjoy curling up with a good book now and then, but it'd been so long since she'd had the time. And it was completely unhelpful to their current situation- though, she supposed, that was probably the point.

"When we have some answers to those questions, we can set about trying to prove ourselves wrong." It was the scientific method; although Harley had always hated it, just a little. She wanted to be right, completely and the first time. And- well, if she couldn't do that, she'd rather just cheat and get it over with.

She wouldn't mention that part though.

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-25 12:29 pm UTC (link)
Having been on the 'train' for just over a week, Malcolm was feeling a whole range of emotions. Irritated, mostly. He had lost all patience, and had quickly realised that trying to talk sense to anyone on board was a futile exercise. They'd all cracked long ago, and to a certain extent, he couldn't really blame them. If he'd been stuck there for months on end, he'd probably have snapped by now. But he wasn't going to let that happen to him.

He'd liked Harley right from the beginning; there was something about the way she had spoken to him that made her instantly likeable, and even though... something had apparently happened to make her forget that (maybe she'd been drinking?) he was very glad to see her questioning things. Malcolm wasn't used to just sitting there and letting things happen. He was used to running from place to place, fixing other people's mistakes, plugging holes, screaming into a phone and god knows what else. Just sitting there did nothing for him. He found it more stressful than the alternative.

His blackberry was silent, still. He could barely stand the silence, and he still carried it on him at all times just... in case. What he thought would happen, he wasn't so sure. Now, the only thing showing any activity was the train's network, some sort of intranet of nutters. None of it was looking good.

Still, he'd made a couple of connections, and maybe between them they could get the ball rolling into finding some sort of solution. He marched confidently into the library a few minutes after the other two; Percy's words obviously hadn't taken any effect, and he was still as unconcerned about maintaining the silence of a library as he ever had been.

"All right, fellow inmates, how are we all?" he asked, managing to avoid insulting them for the time being. He needed some people on his side, after all. He knew how to play it, for the most part. "Can I safely assume you haven't had some miraculous breakthrough already, rendering me surplus to requirements?" he asked, forcing a tense smile. That would be far too convenient. He had a grand total of zero ideas, himself.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 02:34 pm UTC (link)
Harley had taken a moment, leaning back against the wall, to check the new messages on her few. Now she looked up with a smile that was only slightly strained.

"Unfortunately not. We just got here ourselves." Harley moved forward, offering one hand to the gentleman. "Nice to meet you in person. I don't think I caught your name, but please, call me Harley."

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 04:49 pm UTC (link)
This was already worse than he'd imagined it. Jim pushed the bottle toward their new arrival, between the pawns. At least he seemed about ready to snap. That might entertain.

"Doctor Quinzel here seems to think we need more information. Alphabetized." A little more drawl to his voice now, and he didn't touch the scotch, only leaned back and studied their surroundings that much more. "I'm more of a guess and test man, myself. No >i>cunningly hidden</i> trap doors, then?"

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-25 06:22 pm UTC (link)
Malcolm gave her an equally strained smile in return, and gave her hand a firm shake. "Malcolm," he introduced himself simply, dropping her hand again and raising a dubious eyebrow as a bottle was pushed in his direction. Well, if shouting at the problem was having no effect, perhaps drowning it in something strong was the next viable option. In fact, he was sure it was Harley herself who had suggested it, but looking a the straight-laced doctor in front of him now... he didn't get it. Something had happened to her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He nodded as the other man spoke, unscrewing the bottle and pouring himself a glass - in fact, he filled all three glasses. He tended to assume that everyone was drinking. It seemed polite. Or presumptuous, maybe. He'd go with polite.

"Right. I don't think there's going to be a manual kicking about in here," he half-joked. "Aye, I usually go for the bull in a china shop approach, myself. Information gathering..." he sighed, replacing the cap of the bottle and setting it down again.

"There are a fucking hell of a lot of people, with a hell of a lot of information they're a bit too fucking keen to share. And I use the word information very fucking loosely-" he took a sip of scotch, a look of utter disgust crossing his face as he contemplated just spitting it back into the glass. He managed to swallow, with a cough. "-Jesus Christ, and if that's what they're passing off as scotch, I really do need to get the fuck out of here!" he exclaimed.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 06:39 pm UTC (link)
If there was anything so pedestrian as poisoned alcohol in their midst, this Malcolm could be Jim's taster first. Besides, it was swill.

"Keen?" Jim shook his head with a quiet huff of laughter. "All I've heard is 'oh no, we're trapped on a train that thinks it's people'. If anyone's actually tried to leave, they aren't sharing." This was no cabinet minister, though that didn't mean he wasn't an idiot. Malcolm. He searched his memory.

"If the doors won't open and the windows won't smash, our options narrow." Someone was running this train.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-25 07:32 pm UTC (link)
"I've been making lists," Harley put in, waving her phone a little. "People who are willing to help us, and people who are- maybe a little too far gone. And trying to sift through the information for something useful. There's been some." She glanced down at her notes, and began to pace again.

"There have been voices over the intercom- so clearly someone is aware of our situation. Supposedly the owners of the train, saying it's out of control." She skipped over the bit about it being used for vacations in another reality- that was just ridiculous.

"The train does stop occasionally, and you can get off- and you can stay off, I think, unless 'you have something of the trains.'" Whatever that meant. "There have also been reported cases of definitive mental trauma, of one kind or another- I'm seeing a great deal of delusional thinking. And there are several people reporting memory loss that lasts for various lengths of time."

She paused, and glanced up at her companions. "It sounds like other people have tried to 'break' the train-" The train that wasn't really a train, remember that Harley," "With little or no success. As a last resort, we may consider playing by the train's 'rules,' and simply getting off at the next stop. But the reports of mental issues- past the simple delusions- are what disturb me. So many people getting brief bouts of amnesia, all at once? That's extraordinarily uncommon."

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-25 09:07 pm UTC (link)
"There's the open-air observation car, if anyone wants to volunteer to jump!" he joked. Sort of.

Then Harley was talking again, and Malcolm was reluctantly impressed. While he'd been busy shouting at everyone she'd actually been gathering intelligence. Yes, he liked her more and more every minute.

"Aye, I asked some girl why they didn't just get off at the stops. She said..." he checked the net device, scrolling back to Juliet's response. "The stops aren't always nice, people want to wait and find a way home, waiting to be rescued blah blah blah," he explained. "Next stop is Tennessee. As far as I'm aware, that means an airport. Surely these people aren't stupid enough to not realise that," he said with a sigh. But if they weren't stupid, why weren't they just walking away? It was disturbing.

And then Harley was talking about amnesia and it clicked. "Oh, shit, kid!" he exclaimed, looking at her name on the screen, the comment she couldn't remember making. Oh, god. He didn't even know whether he should break it to her. It was starting already.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-25 11:12 pm UTC (link)
Jim wrinkled his nose at "Tennessee", but at least it was a real place. Maybe.

"Will that be black and white, too?" There was no way it was that easy. He'd been listening to Harley carefully. The line between delusion and reality had already been stretched so taut it seemed ready to snap, and at that, Jim couldn't help but grin. Just a little.

"Amnesia, hmn-" But he was interrupted by the look on Malcolm's face. "Oh. Oh dear. How long has she been on this train?"

When had any of them arrived? Jim had survived far longer than a few months without losing track of time. He would absolutely not start scratching off the days on his wall.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-26 01:36 am UTC (link)
Waiting for the train to make a stop seemed too much like giving in, agreeing that it was a time-traveling sentient train. But if nothing else worked-

Malcolm's comment interrupted her thoughts, and Harley's mouth opened, ready for the automatic response that she was not a kid. But the look on his face- and Jim's comment- Harley's head starting shaking slowly, before she even realized it, and that little knot of fear lurking in her stomach started to grow.

"Two days. It's- it's only been two days-" her voice was rising in pitch, and Harley clamped her mouth shut, moving forward to read the phone over Malcolm's shoulder. And felt weak-kneed with relief.

"Is that all?" Her voice was in control again. "Posts on the train's little intranet? That doesn't mean it's me-" She glanced over the words again. "-In fact, that doesn't even sound like me. It's-" She groped for the right word. "It's mean. You're clearly upset, and I'm- whoever that is- is making fun of you. I would have tried to help you calm down, not goaded you even further.

"It must be the train-" she caught herself, corrected the sentence, "It's whoever's running the train. Trying to make us feel like we're already crazy, by posting something under our names before we even arrived."

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-26 09:33 am UTC (link)
"Black and white, fucking hell. It's got to be a projection or something," he said, feeling that he was just stating the obvious, now. He couldn't believe that people were just accepting that. It was fucking monochrome! That wasn't something normal people just accepted.

"You might have a point there. Sounds like something I'd do," he agreed. Well, there was no point in hiding it. Malcolm was not above posting comments under other peoples names to makes them appear unstable.

"Right," he put the phone away again, to avoid being further distracted. "I'm not sure sure about this intelligence gathering. If someone is keen to confuse us all, we're just going to get lost wading through the bullshit," he pointed out. "I've done it plenty of times myself. Gave people a mountain of useless and contradictory information to contend with, just to buy myself time to do... Whatever fucking nasty shit I want to distract attention from. That's looking familiar. We're focusing on the fucking meaning of it all while some cunt is behind the fucking curtain pulling the levers. We're in fucking Oz, now. And I wouldn't be surprised of half the munchkins were in on the secret. Actors. Distractions." He finally stopped ranting, taking a calming breath and glancing quickly between the two of them. "So. Where's the curtain?" he asked, rhetorically.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-26 04:30 pm UTC (link)
"It doesn't matter." There wasn't much point in disguising contempt when it was floating in the air around them all. They'd all worked themselves up, nominally at "the train"; the psychiatrist was positively electric. Amnesiac or not wasn't the point.

Though if she hadn't forgotten a thing, he filed away, meeting the people who'd done it had moved up Jim's list. For now he let his gaze drift to the frothing Scot.

"Oh, there's a curtain. You said it yourself. Where is the open-air car?"

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-26 07:29 pm UTC (link)
Harley had blurted out the first improbable thing to come into her head, and these two just- bought it. Did that mean it was a reasonable idea? No, it wasn't; it was improbably, ridiculous. Paranoid. The fact these two seemed to think it was reasonable- and that Malcolm even admitted to being the kind of man to do that- who were these men?

She blinked rapidly, trying to come back to the conversation. "Uh- a few cars in the other direction from your room, Jim. I believe. Someone mentioned it to me yesterday, but I-" was too afraid to actually look at it, "Assumed it would be more technical trickery." She glanced down at her phone, still clutched in her hand, and scrolled back through the information she'd picked up.

"Supposedly the foremost car is some sort of administrative unit. Impenetrable, according to previous efforts. 'Employees only.'" It fit with the story of the train, but still made Harley roll her eyes.

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-27 09:38 pm UTC (link)
"Aye, I've been along to see it. Still monochrome, but you can reach out... maybe I should chuck something off and see whit happens," he suggested, silently adding 'preferably a passenger'.

Malcolm gave her a dismissive wave when she mentioned the impenetrable administration car. He didn't think it was relevant. "More distractions," he insisted. "if you're trying to hide something, you don't put it behind a big impenetrable door. Then you might as well put a big fucking X marks the spot on it, no-" he took a disgusted sip of scotch, just out of habit. "You hide it somewhere so ducking boring and unassuming that no cunt's ever gonna bother with it," he explained. He was a pro at hiding the unsavoury.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-27 09:47 pm UTC (link)
Jim was already standing, scotch in hand, ambling the way they'd come in. "Or hide it in plain sight. You're a thinker, aren't you."

It was difficult to say, the way Jim's voice swayed, whether it was mockery or compliment.

"If there's something you'd like to chuck off, by all means, fetch." For initial tests. He didn't have a bucket list, per se - if he wanted to do something, Jim generally did it with a careful quickness - but jumping from a moving train seemed suddenly to have been festering in the back of his mind as a long-held dream he'd been only dimly aware of.

"No hurry. Unless you do want to leave."

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-28 06:03 am UTC (link)
Harley was just a little put out. She hadn't been saying she agreed; she was just reciting the facts, so they were all on the same page. That was what you did- you laid out what you knew, and then began to draw conjectures from there.

But Jim was- going somewhere? And Malcolm had dismissed her with one wave of his hand. Harley had crossed her arms over her chest a little defensively, but she was still curious.

"You can reach out?" She frowned. "It- how real does it look?" Were they- going to go see it? Now? What happened to planning?

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-28 07:54 am UTC (link)
Malcolm scoffed slightly at the idea of him being 'a thinker', but moved over to the shelves, scotch in one hand, fingers trailing along the books spines with the other. "Jane Austen, I've always hated that snobby bitch," he commented, pulling a copy of 'Emma' from the shelf as his object of chose for chucking.

He started for the door after Jim, glancing back over his shoulder at Harley, nodding for her to follow. "Aye, it looks real- well, aside from it still being fucking monochrome. You can feel the wind- you can look down at the side of the car, it's..." he shrugged, not sure what it was exactly other than fucked up.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-28 09:03 am UTC (link)
Jim sighed; impatience was one thing, but the frustration that no one had even tried. If anyone had, they weren't sharing it in their helpful handbook to the magical train.

Normally not one for hands on, he was still debating various courses of action. The Austen could go first. Then something more substantial. The Scot and the psychiatrist each had points in their favour.

But honestly, if anyone was going to get off this bloody train, shouldn't it be him? Whether they were there or not. Jim made his way back down the halls, peering ahead curiously, not paying much attention to the intentions of his companions.

The grin on his face wasn't shaken by the cool wind whipping by on the open air car. He'd almost expected to see the edges of the screen these images were obviously projected onto, but they wouldn't be so shoddy as that. The projection was so lifelike. Jim bit his lip, a satisfied little hum at the thought of what he could do with something like that.

"Science. Glorious, isn't it? Let's try some now."

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-28 03:14 pm UTC (link)
The door had closed behind Harley as she stepped outside; which was good, because almost immediately she had pressed back against it, mouth falling open, her fingers trying to dig into its surface like the car might try to buck her off.

This- it wasn't right. It was too good. The air smelled fresh blowing past her, trying to tug her too-short hair out of its percarious ponytail. The view was perfectly real, gentle tree-covered hills sloping away from them, a few clouds in the sky- but it was all grey.

It wasn't flat. It wasn't a screen. It was too real. It was real.

Harley's mouth opened, but no sound came out; or if it did, the wind stole it as it blew around her.

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-06-28 04:18 pm UTC (link)
Malcolm had already experienced the strange illusion that was the open-air car, but the effect was still a shocking one. He gasped slightly as the strong wide hit at his face, each breath drawing a little colder, that unmistakable fresh air in his lungs. Some sort of wind machine? Then again, unlike Harley, Malcolm wasn't so determined to deny that it was a real train, he was only questioning the sentience of said train. And the time travel, naturally. The view, however... he was at a bit of a loss for an explanation there.

He didn't look back at first, so he was unaware of Harley's distress at the situation. Instead, he was grinning far too eagerly in Jim's direction. He waggled his eyebrows, far too amused by the whole screwy situation. He raised the paperback over his shoulder and gave it a strong fling out into the landscape.

It started to fly, pages fluttering in the wind... And then it hit an invisible barrier, and malcolm found himself having to duck and it propelled back at him like a boomerang.

"Fuck! She's back with a vegeance!" he exclaimed as the book thumped against the floor.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-28 07:18 pm UTC (link)
"Excellent sequel titling." Jim's eyes hadn't left that book; the angle, the impact, and the Scot ducking like a cartoon character. He didn't even bother trying not to laugh at that.

Now it was the air itself Jim stared at. Anything might give it away, just for a moment. A glimmer, a rippling, even the crackle and buzz you could hear and feel before a storm.

Nothing.

Fingers twined around the cool metal of the railing, he leaned forward, expecting resistance. A wall. Again, nothing. Eyes closed, he drew a deep breath and reached out for the grey landscape rolling by; not even a resistance, let alone a solid wall. Not even when he punched at nothing, reaching out well past where the book had gone.

Fantastic. He might have stared at it all night, if he hadn't his companions to break his reverie. Dr. Quinzel, in specific, who shook so violently he imagined he could feel it through the rumbling floor, instead of seeing her in the corner of his eye.

"Doc-tor." The musical little inquiry might have been swallowed by the wind; keeping an eye on Malcolm, Jim edged his way towards her, the picture of compassion. "You're going to hurt your fingers. Why not take a walk?" Hand reached out, the gallant gentleman offering companionship.

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-28 07:37 pm UTC (link)
It was almost, almost okay again, when the book came back- it had hit the screen, and that was right, it was okay. Reasonable. They were just- really good screens. 3D technology, or something. And wind machines.

But then Jim leaned over the railing, actually reached out past where the book had hit, and the logic and the reason feel apart again, leaving Harley trembling and unable to do much more than stand, still trying to get her mouth to work.

"I- I don't- how did-" She was pointing one shaking hand at the spot he'd been in, trying to ask how that was possible- but then he was there, right in front of her. His smile kind, his hand steady. He'd explain it, wouldn't he? Jim would make it all make sense. Harley's shaking hand slowly reached and found his own.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-06-30 08:34 pm UTC (link)
"See? It's just fine." Taking her hand and slowly, gradually stepping backward, he led her towards the railing. "A complicated illusion. Testing is dreary, I realize, but it's already revealed more than I could explain." Malcolm hovered in the corner of Jim's eye, but all his focus was fixed squarely on Dr. Quinzel. Resting the hand not in his gently on the metal divider that framed the rolling grey countryside.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Harley. Nothing at all. It's only science." Jim was nearly singing now, a calming, melodic reassurance in Harley's ear. "Very pretty. In its own way. You can have a closer look. It won't hurt you."

It began very slowly, Jim reach around her back to lift her arm much the way he had done himself, to look down and see the ground rushing beneath them. Murmurs sneaking into her ear and letting her breathing relax, if she was as suggestible as she seemed.

Abruptly, the hand at her shoulder had hooked the woman, slight as she was, and tipped her backward; in one fluid motion, Jim let go of her hand and slipped an arm under her knees, feet braced. And threw her toward the horizon.

He was almost entirely sure she'd come back, but these things needed confirmation. he would have sighed when she bounced off of nothing as solidly as had the book, but she landed rather abruptly in his arms again, stumbling him backward a few feet, and the air rushed out of him anyway, and he shook his head.

"Pity."

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[info]harleygirl
2012-06-30 09:05 pm UTC (link)
His words moved past her ears like water, the sing-songing quality almost hypnotic. Harley wasn't really listening, but it was so soothing, and his touch was so gentle- and the scenery rolling past them, it was so real, but it couldn't be real, like the train that wasn't a train- her hand was lifting, and of course she would see, Jim would show her, how it worked, and how it had to be fake-

The world tilted around her dizzyingly, and abruptly Harley couldn't feel Jim anymore; she was in the air, and then hitting something that found hard and rough, more like bricks than glass- there was a brief moment where she had time to flail, to open her mouth and try to scream, before she hit Jim again, his face filling her vision.

Harley's scream came out as more of a breathless squeak, her brain no longer gibbering anything but run. She shoved him and twisted away at once, stumbling and staggering when her feet hit the ground; she gaped at Jim for a moment, and then she was fleeing, running as fast as her feet could take her, back for the door of the car and the relative safety of her room.

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[info]fuckitybye
2012-07-04 10:42 am UTC (link)
Malcolm hadn't really been paying attention to the others, more concerned by picking up the novel, examining the edges, almost expecting to see scorch marks. He glanced up, seeing that Jim was taking control of the situation, gently leading the doctor to the edge. Malcolm was no good at that soft, touchy feeling stuff. He'd be more likely to try and shout at her to get a grip, not because he was cruel, but he didn't know any other way to handle a situation.

But then it all happened in a flash. "What the fuck-" he exclaimed, dashing forward, but before he was anywhere near, Harley had already bounced back. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you playing at?" he yelled, looking between the two of them in horror. Yes, he'd had the fleeting thought himself, but to actually try to throw someone against their will...

"You all right, pet?" he asked, his tone softening for a second before turning back to Jim as Harley made her prompt exit. "You've gone fucking nutter, mate. You've fucking cracked," he informed him, pointing at him with the Austen and quickly backing away out the door.

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[info]so_changeable
2012-07-04 05:37 pm UTC (link)
Yes. The Scot. Jim had to make sure he didn't sound sarcastic.

"I was only trying to help..." His eyes were beseeching; the corners of his mouth didn't turn up one little bit. "Ask the good doctor, facing our fears is the only way to cope with them sometimes... she's all right now, isn't she? I caught her."

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