polygrapher | ❝ sorry i cannot hear you, i'm k-kinda busy ❞

[ someone has to check the spectrometers every morning, just to make sure they're still calibrated properly, and that job? usually goes to davor, because he is genuinely terrible at playing nose-goes (and the lab is secretly full of twelve-year-olds in charge of hideously expensive scientific equipment, so of course that's how they make decisions). davor is not, however, expecting to find someone else in the spectrometry lab when he walks in—and he very definitely does not let out a girly squeak and slam his free hand against the closed door in panic. nope. not him. ]

Jesus Christ, what are you—you can't be in here!

[ excuse him as he sputters for a second, trying to get his brain back in gear... and waiting for his heart to start beating normally again. it's not that he's not used to agent pierce looming in random corners (although he isn't), but random heavily-armed government agent in the spectrometry lab is not the kind of thing one can generally brace oneself for.

and a quick, only semi-panicked glance around says that gabe's not in here, which is. unusual, given that it's his job to ~~babysit~~ escort said government agent. ]

What are you doing in here?

[ davor gently sets his papers down and braces a hand on the nearest table, taking in and letting out a deep breath. he's moved past panic into suspicion by this point, since as far as he was aware agent pierce didn't have even the remotest interest in the actual science done in the lab. (hey, his parents are bosnian political refugees. suspicion of heavily-armed government agents—even the really attractive ones, and agent pierce definitely qualifies for that category—is a crucial survival tactic in the pavlović household.) ]

[ davor is about as quiet as a mouse with lead weights attached to its scrabbling little claws, and his similarly mousey squeak doesn't exactly lend itself to his no doubt highly refined stealth tactics. nate's gotten used to the fact that he literally cannot go anywhere without running into one of boston's post-grads, interns (wasn't there just the one?) or dr. benton himself, so this particular run-in is about as underwhelming as it usually gets.

(that it's davor is just the icing on the cake. nate's sure the kid has about fifty billion better things to do than interact with the government agent assigned to "protect" the harvard lab and its related R&D projects, and yet... here they are. again.)

he turns and holds up his cell phone, the backlit screen facing davor. it blinks off after a second. ]

Reception.

[ that's only half-true; in reality, he'd been sending off a daily progress report to his superiors in langley, as per his contract. luckily, his superiors in langley are basically tantamount to langley, the order member responsible for recruiting him in the first place. in any case, it all gets back to boston, and more importantly, DC, but nate would rather send off texts in dark corner where his phone can't be appropriated than out in the open where inevitably some bored employee will point fingers. much like he's expecting davor to do, actually.

that, and hit on him. ]

Don't worry. I didn't touch anything.

You know we're underground, right?

[ you could just use wi-fi like the rest of the developed world. heathen.

davor gives the screen a skeptical glance, but... well, with the screen off, there's not much to see. that doesn't change the fact that it's still pretty damn sketchy, and that normal people don't actually lurk behind doors while trying to get cell reception, but he's willing to let it go. (for now, anyway. try not to leave your phone unattended for approximately the next forever, agent pierce.)

curiosity somewhat satisfied, he moves over to the bank of computers against the wall, giving agent pierce a sidelong glance as he boots up the two computers closest to them. ]

I didn't know federal agents texted.

[ if nothing else, davor sounds like he's gotten over his initial panic, because he's moved right back into his usual mode of dealing with federal agents: shamelessly flirting. ]

[ unfortunately, nate is not normal people. standing around dark corners is kind of in the job description—plus, you know, shooting firearms—and the occasional full body tackle. (nobody gets to touch nate's phone but nate, and anyone who disagrees clearly hasn't been on the receiving end of his temper.)

nate shoots him a blank, incredibly deadpan expression, with equally dry delivery. just because he's phd-level science-impaired doesn't mean he doesn't know how to make words appear on a phone, let alone press send. ]

Yeah, only about one in a hundred federal agents have been able to develop the motor skills necessary to use a tiny keypad. We normally use fax machines and carrier pigeons.

[ he leans his hip against the wall near the bank of the computers, arms crossed.

if there's one thing nate can respect about davor, it's that he doesn't even vaguely attempt to be subtle. ]

Seen Dr. Sinclair?

Mmnope, not yet. Something you need, or...?

[ davor slides down to the next pair of computers after the (godawful, never-ending, "whose-idea-was-this-again") series of atonal bleeps from the first two computers stops.

it's... okay, it's not entirely innuendo. the faster he gets agent pierce out of the spectrometry lab, the faster he can get the gruntwork done and get back to real science. that doesn't change the fact that it's also innuendo, however. ]

[ nate is smart enough to know that innuendo for what it is. he's also smart enough to ignore it completely. ]

He had something he wanted to tell me. I'd hate to keep him waiting.

[ well, that's somewhat true. if you're operating from the basis that boston always has something to tell him, which is generally the norm. especially where science is concerned.

not that he doesn't enjoy watching davor doing mindless... whatever it is he's doing (he actually does mind, by the way), but he's got a job to do. ]

You could always just text him.

[ it's muttered into the keyboard rather than actually spoken out loud, but davor's pretty sure agent pierce can hear him anyway. he'd be more than happy to talk science to nate—but contrary to popular belief, davor actually can take a hint, so he'll back off a little. ]

He did tell you he might be filling in for Doc Savage in class today, right? Something about an uncancelable meeting, can't take his 10am special topics, you know the drill.

[ davor's voice is just innocent enough that he's either telling the truth or doing a pretty good job of bullshitting. ]

[ the corner of nate's mouth twitches. down. ]

That poor class.

[ what davor's saying does ring true; nate's a walking lie detector after all, and he'd be a shitty one if he couldn't tell if davor was lying. but it's tinged with a vague hint of deception—nothing major, so probably a lie by omission, or, if davor was the anxious type, guilt—but nate's tone does a pretty good job expressing the fact that keeping this from him was a bad plan, and that he's none too impressed that boston apparently couldn't be fucked to tell him either. ]

No, he failed to mention that particular point to me. [ he pushes off the wall and checks his watch. 9:50 AM. typical. ] Where's the class?

[ hey, there's no need to get mean. davor never technically lied; he hasn't seen gabe all day, even if he knows good and well that's not actually what agent pierce was asking.

shrug. ]

That's what I said. [ it'll be a miracle if the class starts on time, and extra-miraculous if gabe manages to stay on topic—or even just talks about physics the whole time—and davor's well-aware of that. unfortunately, the undergraduate physics department has actually requested advance warning for benton substituting, and postdocs don't count, which leaves... gabe. he almost feels bad for the undergrads. ] Should be in Jefferson 312. That's the one across from the music building.

Have fun.

[ please note that davor doesn't say "when did you start taking an interest in quantum transport?".

he just thinks it really loudly instead. ]

Edited 2012-10-04 18:33 (UTC)

[ nate's all too aware of how boston likes to handle his lectures, both in and out of the classroom, and he's not looking forward to undergoing an hour or so of barely related tangents on... whatever branch of physics it is this time. still, he's got a few games on his phone, and he'd brought snow crash to the lab in order to ~~broaden his horizons~~ stave off boredom. he'll be fine. probably.

dryly: ] I won't. See you later, Dr. Pavlović.

[ he's out the door by the time the last word leaves his mouth.

(and davor? stop staring at his ass.) ]

[ but it's such a nice ass. ]

Edited 2012-10-05 02:45 (UTC)

[ it would be nice if, at some point, gabe got a little bit of advance warning before being shoved in front of a group of bored undergrads and told to lecture.

just once.

really, that's all he's asking.

it's not that he minds filling in for savage during his 10am—he doesn't, although he's a little jealous they have a "special topics in quantum physics" course for undergrads at all; thanks, harvard—but he'd appreciate more than ten minutes' notice next time. quantum entanglement is the kind of thing that needs props to make sense, and throwing markers at people just isn't the same. ( and—what's your name? a'ight, cohen is gonna spin in a circle, and you, with the pink hair—alvarez?—you're going to spin next to him. no, together. yes, really. trust me, it'll make sense in a sec. )

but it's not a complete disaster, as usual, and he manages to get them actually discussing and moving and talking amongst themselves on the way out of class, which he counts as a success. he notices a small clump of girls file in five minutes after he starts lecturing and take a seat in the back corner, silently texting amongst themselves and batting their eyelashes down at him. that's actually starting to become a regular thing, but hell. might as well give them some science if they're going to be in here.

still, he can technically only keep them for an hour, and gabe sets them free to wreak havoc on the slushy winter campus at about forty-five after. once they're all out of the way, making more noise than really ought to be possible for a clump of twelve students plus visitors, he picks his way through the maze of desks to where cambridge is perched with this week's novel, leaning backward and bracing himself casually against a nearby chair. ]

You know, you sitting in the back of the class making faces at my analogies isn't exactly helpful. The basketball thing made perfect sense in context.

[ technically they weren't faces so much as "variations on the theme of lineface", but gabe's gotten very, very good at telling a judgmental lineface apart from an exasperated lineface at fifty paces. ]

So, what are we reading this week?

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