Robbie Baldwin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walkingballpit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-08-18 03:43 pm
walkingballpit) wrote in goneawayworld2020-08-18 03:43 pm
Entry tags:
Here kitty kitty
I.
[ Robbie is storming out of his quarters, which look decidedly disheveled. Borderline “a weather wizard got really pissed in here”, although not yet at the “did a bomb go off?” level. He figuratively grabs anyone he sees, with a half-hearted attempt at literally. There’s an air of repressed freneticism. ]
Hey.
[ He sounds like Ross Gellar. No one hears that greeting and expects to hear good news afterwards. Robbie straightens up a bit and tries to brighten up to match. ]
Sooo... I have this cat, right? You’ve seen him. Orange. Stripey. Cat-sized. He goes by the name of Niels, because I was even more annoying at 15 than I am now.
[ He pulls the thin blanket haphazardly up on his bunk, because that makes it better. ]
Only right now - I don’t have this cat. I can not find that darn cat. We have to find him before he scratches the wrong person.
II.
[ An hour into the search, Robbie is setting up a cross between a Rube Goldberg machine and a Wil E. Coyote trap for the roadrunner. From the looks of it, the sequence of things that can be bumped, rolled, or manipulated will all eventually lead to a box being lifted, rather than dropped. It will never trap anything, but the goal is actually to seduce Niels with milk and some scraps that Robbie stole from the mess to stay in one place long enough to be found and brought back to safety. ]
Break time’s over, Niels.
[ Robbie carefully adds one more thing, a single boot, and backs away. ]
III. [ Your choice - or let me know you want something different. It doesn’t have to be related to the cat hunt. ]
II
Human watching has always been a bad habit of Ickis’, but it was hard not to be fascinated when they could be just so weird. Now he just had the excuse of trying to weed out what humans were least dangerous in this place. From what little he can see of the thing from the safety of the vent, the contraption has the look of an overly complicated trap, and maybe it was just his own paranoia, but the placement of that boot made it feel like it might be directed at him. Then again, the milk and scraps probably weren’t, and he definitely wasn’t a 'Neils', whatever that was. So 85% chance it wasn’t meant for him. That still left the question of who or what was the human trying to catch.
Waiting a few minutes after the human had backed off, he quietly made his way out of the vent, being careful to stay out of sight as he crept over to part of the contraption. With a better look at it, he tried to follow the working of it with his eyes, but couldn’t see where the trap part of the “trap” was. Where ever it was, it wasn’t endangering him, so with the curious spirit of a cat, he sets one of the rolling bit’s of it in motion, just to see what will happen.]
no subject
The ball falls five inches, onto an delicately balanced stack of books. The top book is off centre and so precariously balanced that the gentle weight is enough to slowly rip it off the pile, and it falls to the floor.
Tied around the book is a ragged rope that looks like a strip of the Jorgmund issued blankets, and it’s yanked by the fall. The box lifts as it’s supposed to, and the stolen treats sit tantalizingly just waiting for a certain cat to come along.
The falling book lands with a thunk and loud pop, as the air disturbance of it causes a balloon saved from a sheet cake party to be wafted forward into a push pin borrowed from one corner of a motivational poster.
The sound brings Robbie back double time, and he skids to a halt when he sees who’s messing with his cat-trap. ]
You’re not Niels. Come on, bud, leave it. I’ll get you your own milk.
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I-I-I- [Heart hammering with the pace of a hummingbird he peeks out from behind the box, winsing at his own stutter and tries to steady his voice, but it doesn’t work.] I d-don’t want milk. [Snarling as he attempts to gather his nerves he flashes a hint of fang when he speaks up again trying to appear more intimidating, but his cracking high pitched panic voice still betrays him.] Don-don’t talk to me like I’m a pet!
[Maybe that was being presumptuous, probably was, but with how most of the official staff had treated him and the degrading flea collar around his neck, he was feeling more than a little touchy.
Still eyeing Robbie suspiciously from behind the box, he again tried to steady his voice and this time manages it a bit better.]
Who’s Niels? And why do you have to use this to catch them?
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Okay, you’re not a pet.
[ Robbie spreads his arms wide, hands palms up, and shrugs. ]
I’m still going to call you bud unless you give me a name. It’s better than shortstack.
[ With a slight hesitation, Robbie crouches down and starts resetting the area as best he can. The fangs have been noted, and he’s not about to have his face gremlined.
He’ll have to figure something out to replace the balloon for a noisemaker and the tin foil ball. ]
Niels is my pet cat, and he’s AWOL right now. He’s good at getting in trouble, so I need to find him before he creates an army of kippers out of Stuff. Or worse, he scratches up an exec. Bribes work, but if he thinks it’s his idea - like if he thinks he’s getting away with something clever getting to that milk - that works better. I’m not going to hurt him - or you, for that matter.
[ It’s hard to be that afraid of a fanged alien when it’s hiding behind a box. ]
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My name’s Ickis.
[Which he definitely preferred over bud or shortstack.
Listening to him talk about Neils and his fear of the cat getting into the wrong thing or running into the “execs”, it's hard not to be reminded of his own share of trying to hide pets from authority figures that would rain hell on his head if they found out about them. And he hadn’t yet made the connection between uniform and position in the hierarchy of this place, but by the way he talked, it sounded like they were probably on the same rung. “New Hires”.]
Mhn...We-Well...[Speaking up cautiously, then thinking better of it, he stops himself, unsure for a second of what the rules of engagement with humans would be in this situation. But then, he’d never really followed those rules anyway. Why start now?] w-when I’ve had to hide pets and they got away, they somehow always seemed to get into the one place that w-would get us both into the most trouble. What would be the worst places a cat could get into here?
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[ He nods his head, but resists going for a fist bump with someone so skittish. It would also probably be mistaken for aggression.
Robbie groans under his breath and nods again as Ickis tries to help theorize where Niels could be. ]
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. He’s found the worst place to be, and we don’t even know where that is. This is a giant, mobile corporate base. He could be in the engine room, he could be on the bridge, he could be peeing on the CFO’s houseplant. He’s like your size - to him, this is all a giant cat condo.
[ He considers the new guy, tilting his head to the side. ]
You came out of that grate, right? Cats go for dark, enclosed spaces - or high spaces. Where’s the worst place you could get?
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[Gadget's been sitting on a pipe nearby for a while now, watching Robbie's construction with an interested eye.]
No offense, but as is? I think it's only got about a 50% chance of working as intended.
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[ Robbie sits cross-legged on the floor and looks up at Gadget with a mildly exasperated look. ]
This is why I’m not the Plan person. I just know that he can’t be loose in the Rig for too long, or the chances of him getting stuck somewhere goes through the roof. So do the chances of him going through the roof - he’s blown up kitty carriers. Niels doesn’t like being confined.
[ He huffs and drums his fingers on his knee, looking over the contraption. ]
If you have a better idea that doesn’t involve using yourself as bait, I’m all ears.
no subject
[Gadget rappels down the bit of twine she used to get on to the pipe in the first place.]
Anyways, it's not the idea that's the problem, it's the implementation. For instance, that boot needs to be a couple of centimeters forward if you want it to have any chance of setting off the dominoes.
[She takes the opportunity to shove the boot into place herself.]
There we go. That'll do for a start.
i.
That still leaves a lot of wiggle room, in my understanding of the world.
[ No trace of offense in Ranulf's tone, just genuine attempt to narrow things down. He holds his hands up to indicate a size, then moves them back and forth. ]
Give me something in the vicinity?