revivalproject | Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

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Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

WHO: ALL HE ROWS
WHERE: The Secret Tunnel, which has become the Calibrations Waiting Room (or was it always...?)
WHAT: Mingle log for literally anything you'd like to take place in the waiting room between sleep cycles during the event
WHEN: June 3 - July 10
WARNINGS: Please mark individual threads with warnings

For those that have heeded Ga Re's warning, the door within the secret tunnel - which looks suspiciously like the hatch to one of your shuttles - is wide open, waiting for you. You walk through... and the door behind you disappears. You’re now standing in a cavernous, cold, white waiting room. There are hallways leading off the main corridor with names above each. One of them has your name and will draw you toward it, inevitably.

And on the wall, in pink, running letters is written this single greeting:

‘Welcome to Calibrations’.

The secret tunnel has become a large waiting room with chairs, tables, and the same food dispensers available in the shuttles. There are also communal bathrooms - one for each gender - with several toilet stalls and shower stalls in each, including basic shampoo and soap dispensers, like you might find in a hotel. The water isn’t hot, so hopefully you don’t mind lukewarm showers. Somehow, at least, it never goes cold.

Branching off the main waiting room room are the labeled hallways. At the end of each short hallway is a door, with the same character’s name written on them. Anyone can enter any room, regardless of the name written on it. Everyone has their own room, though of course people can share. Each room has a simple bed (approximately queen-sized) and a set of drawers.

You can opt to spend time in your room or in the larger, common waiting room. (And if you do, you can thread it out here!) But every 16 hours, you'll feel a compulsion: You need to sleep. Right now. You find yourself going into your room (or someone else's, if you really want). But you’re drawn to the bed. You can’t help but lie down. And then, you fall asleep.

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Ticklish was, for once, not a surprise; Jon was sensitive in every other way to Tony's attention, generously satisfying him with a reaction like that vocal embarrassment to one innocuous comment that had Tony preening. It was, however, not a weapon to deploy too liberally should Tony want to keep it effective, so he carefully tucked Jon's shirt back into place before folding a hand over his stomach, just tugging at the creases in the fabric that strayed too close to his fingers. Now that he had Jon relaxed under him, the bag he had brought crowding the space on the bed with them, Tony asked very casually, "What'd you bring?," just taking stock of the supplies Jon had thought to take with him into a bunker for an unknown length of time.

And Jon is quite happy with being allowed to just settle, placing one of his hands over Tony's and idly brushing the man's fingers with his thumb as his attention is drawn to the bag and- He shrugs.

"Tape recorder, tapes... Some medical supplies we may have no use for. A notebook." Of course the tapes and his recorder remain the most important pieces. "I feel like I shouldn't have bothered with pre-recorded ones. This place may give half of us claustrophobia anyway..." So why waste the few meals he has left.

Before Tony made his grab for the bag, he offered, "I got your tea," and another quick nip to Jon's side through his shirt to leave him distracted while Tony dragged the gear closer. As he rifled through it with one hand, he continued absently, "Do you think it'll be that bad? It's not terrible, space-wise. Guess we'll see if everyone gets down here, though, it wouldn't be my first choice to host a party, do need some breathing room, but maybe it's just us, we could be alone down here for weeks..." Them and the few people Tony had walked in on already, of course, but his mind was elsewhere right now.

The mentioned tea and the jab to his side may work as a distraction for a short while, but Jon doesn't miss Tony going straight for the bag - And unfortunately he has an idea what he is looking for.

"I doubt we will have that luxury of being alone." Jon sighs with a note of disappointment and directs his attention to Tony searching his bag for what can only be drugs "Just try imagining this place filled with thirty people. Tensions are... Guaranteed." And where there are tensions, there waits a variety of underlying fears. "Now... Please. Stop searching my stuff? If you are looking for something specific... At least ask." Especially since most of what he has packed isn't labeled.

Who said he was looking for something specific? Tony's rummaging did slow, guiltily, and he drew out the next thing his hand closed around as though his intent really was just to invade Jon's privacy shamelessly and said, "No change of underwear?" Jon could have offered, too, it wasn't like a guy just got over being burned through his heart, please, but Tony hadn't worked out the effective technique to get the bottle out of Jon's hands once it was in them. "You know what, you're right, tensions. Probably won't need them. Why do you think I don't bother?"

"I told you I wanted to go back for another bag." Jon replies to the teasing question in earnest, even adding a little huff as he reached for the bag to pull it close enough to him to reach into it himself and pull out the mentioned notebook first, only to put it down flat and closed on the bed next to them. Then he reaches in again and pulls out a small, dark bottle filled with a liquid and sets it down on the notebook. He repeats this a couple of times producing various bottles in various sizes, with varying caps and glass colors. The final pieces are a few plain grey plastic containers that join the bottles, these ones containing pills.

With everything placed neatly on the notebook, Jon casts Tony a look that comes with a single, raised brow and Jon's adopted version of Tony's teasing tone.

"Do you want to guess what all these are?" It's not exactly his intention to chide Tony - Or to judge him.

Tony withdrew his hand to tuck back under his chin with a pout for this intervention, without even the treat of a good blush for the underwear, fingers on Jon's stomach starting to circle and hike his shirt up further again in minute movements as Jon arranged his display. The production wasn't that necessary, Jon had been working away like a mad scientist with his tinctures, Tony already knew that, he didn't care what else Jon was making, but he conceded to the performance with a sigh and half-lidded eyes as he scrutinized the containers like he could even begin to guess. With a small indication with his chin toward the first bottle, Tony decided, "Toner, obviously." Then down the line, "Eye cream. Retinol. Vitamin C. You'll need more moisturizer than that." The plastic containers, he thought, were familiar, and took his chance with a confident guess to snatch one up and tuck back under his chin. "Calcium?"

Jon doesn't interfere with Tony's hand on his stomach. It's nice enough as long as the man refrains from outright tickling him again - And he does settle with bringing his own hand to the back of Tony's head again to idly stroke his hair with a soft hum while Tony makes his guesses

"Most of it is actually the same." He clears up after a short noise of fond amusement. "Simple painkillers. Repeated attempts at different dosages and half of them will make you very tired. It's... It's easily the only thing we will need here. And my resources are limited." Very much so, even. His free hand moves to pick up a different one of the plastic containers and offers it out to Tony "Trade. I need the ones you took."

"That's optimistic," Tony replied skeptically, not sure he would be so confident about what they might need after the unexpected wrench of the whole door disappearing. Reluctantly, not sure if this was some kind of trick or Jon was genuinely offering to trade something useless that Tony had picked up for what he wanted, Tony allowed Jon to take the swiped container back and tucked the proffered one against his palm to curl a free finger around Jon's. "Who are we sedating," he inferred, "And for what nefarious purposes does the librarian need to know how to do that?" It had been-- not desperation, blind trust was a much more pleasant descriptor, that led Tony to accept anything Jon had handed him so far, but he had yet to hear the explanation for this particular skill set.

As long as they have magical healers for the emergencies, Jon sees no reason to run an entire pharmacy. That would only amount in a waste of time, energy and resources.

It's the finger holding his hand back that catches Jon's attention and he blinks once, then casts a quick glance over to his little assortment of drugs. He shrugs. "I... I originally wanted to work in that field? Studied for it. Becoming an archivist has never been something I aimed for, Tony. It just... Happened. I applied for the research job at the Institute not purely out of interest in the paranormal - I needed the money. And I hoped it would look good for future applications?" Then he simply remained stuck in research, unable to leave without even being aware of it. It's not the most fascinating story, really.

"And please don't worry about me sedating anyone here. I will only use those on myself."

That wasn't the first time Tony had heard a story like it, but being trapped in a dead-end job that wasn't the first choice and whatever kept Jon tangled up in this life he had stumbled into were very different things. Jon made it sound so normal, like he was just paying off the degree. It was the self-medicating that got Tony to stop toying with Jon's shirt, though, releasing his hand to fix Jon with a questioning stare. He had brought his little snacks, and he said himself that there was likely to be enough fear packed into this space to keep him sated, so Tony wasn't sure why he thought there was a need to knock himself out, unless this wasn't a bunker-specific solution of his. Tony pushed himself up onto his knees again, straddled over Jon's thighs to keep him pinned, tucking his own ill-gotten gains into his back pocket to free his hands. "Because you think you're going to hurt somebody?" he asked, "Or for the nightmares?" Tony looked as though Jon better have a third option, because neither of them were impressing him.

Tony's reaction is stronger than Jon has expected and it's all he can do to pull his hands and arms in and over himself almost defensively and stare up at Tony with wide eyes. "Tony, I just-"

He manages to cut himself off before panicking for the sole reason of being pinned down. He knows he has no reason to be afraid of Tony. That Tony wouldn't harm him. He is just worried. Reminding himself of this, Jon exhales and simply gives a small shake of his head.

"I just- I don't want to be constantly awake, Tony. It's quiet. It's lonely. And all I do is think. Just thinking. Day in, day out. I would love to spend some of that time with you, but- It's not something I can ask of you the entire time." Is this an acceptable response? Jon doesn't know. He's still struggling to fully justify this to himself and he can see how it may upset Tony - Jon would be upset, too.

The defensiveness isn't impressive, either, making Tony touch his tongue to his teeth, eyes narrowed in scrutiny of the posture that Jon hadn't taken with him before, even among all of the complaints for Tony's harassment. It made Tony ease back slightly, sliding closer to Jon's knees in a move that he hoped looked like he was just getting comfortable with a hand planted in the bed next to Jon's hip, gaze down apologetically for not noticing when they had taken this step back. Jon's self-consciousness might have been a hint, if he was paying attention. He couldn't just let Jon say something like that though-- he took on enough of an addictive disposition with his eating habits, he didn't have to start with the 'it helps me sleep' refrain with this now. "Have you started taking them?" Tony asked carefully. "I thought I told you, I had my methods, one to ten or whatever..." It was hard to remember what he had said to Jon then, it didn't seem as funny now.

"I, ah..." Jon begins, then drops his head to the side with a little frown, willing the tension in his own body to subside enough for his hands to drop down and settle over his stomach, the fingers of his one hand scraping their nails lightly over the scars on the other. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and gives a small shake of his head.

"No, I..." He pauses for a moment, then exhales while setting his eyes back on the array of bottles. "I was afraid to try." Afraid to find out it doesn't work on him. Afraid to find another piece of his humanity gone.

Jon turns a rueful look back up at Tony "I'm sorry. I- Didn't mean to worry you." He probably just shouldn't have said a thing. Tony shouldn't have to worry about him. But he supposes it's nice that he does. That he cares enough to worry.

If this was another thing Tony had to look out for now, he didn't even know what the signs were. Jon already looked overwrought and under-rested, Tony was starting to think he was born that way, so Tony really only had his word to trust that this wasn't a problem. Yet. Tony didn't even know if that worrying of his hands was a bunker thing, a Tony thing, or this thing. He chanced taking one of Jon's hands, nudging the other aside as he brought it to hold against his thigh and leave Jon less protectively covered and more vulnerable to Tony's insistence, "Let me fix it." He wasn't sure if it was a more obviously manipulative move than the arm around Jon's neck, but it did feel a little worse as he did it, making him quickly release Jon's hand again and offer an innocent grin. "You don't want to be left dead-sleeping through the good shit," he continued to fill the space. "Haven't you been in a dorm? One eye open, at all times, or you're the one without an eyebrow in the morning." He tapped his own, he knew that struggle, it wasn't a worthy one. "I'm not saying I would instigate such shenanigans, obviously, some of us are more mature than that, but I do have to point out that there is a table out there and I'm willing to bet you your glasses back that I can get Cayde to give us a dance in under 72 hours of lockdown. You want to be asleep?"

Jon gives no protest to having his hands moved, but he does watch the motion with some bewilderment. Right. He may not need another nervous habit. Which may emerge either way if he can't even go outside for a cigarette. And he has nurtured that particular bad habit pretty well back into shape over these past few months.

One of his released hands comes to settle on Tony's knee on its own accord and Jon gives it a light squeeze while tilting his head up at Tony with a still somewhat muddled expression on his face "...are you trying to tempt me with the idea of Cayde dancing on a table?" Yes, that's an honest question. A question that is followed by a small groan and Jon's remaining hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose "And please, don't remind me of my uni days. Though I was probably the last person anyone sought to risk crossing paths with at night..."

"Are you not tempted?" Tony purred, taking the glasses from atop his head to give them a provocative wiggle mirrored in a shimmy of his hips, absolutely certain Cayde would make the greatest spectacle out of anyone around here of that move and/or breaking the table and genuinely baffled that he would have to sell the idea any more than that. He took an arm of the glasses gently between his teeth, eyebrows raised expectantly. How could anyone turn down a bet like that? Winnings on either end, and something to keep Jon's mind occupied so it wasn't all quiet thinking. The glasses were folded against Tony's palm quickly for him to laugh, though, at Jon's school suffering, eyes narrowed in gleeful curiosity. "Is that not what this is like?" he suggested again, the communal bathrooms, a bunch of people you didn't really like crowding the kitchen. Gasping like he had solved the puzzle, Tony said, "You were the one puking all over the showers."

While those brief movements of Tony's hips sure draw Jon's attention for that moment, earning Tony a small blush, the Archivist finds it difficult to plain set aside the man's words. Maybe it's up to him to keep a list of beings to be jealous of. And apparently he will have three days by himself to do so while Tony goes about fussing over the Exo. Thrilling.

"Tony... We aren't all preoccupied with robot men." Is what he says with a small, underlying sigh while pushing himself back up into a sitting position, eyes falling down to where Tony is sitting on his legs and contemplating how to shuffle out of that little trap without thoroughly embarrassing himself, the comment to Tony's teasing guesswork somewhat absent-minded. "...and I was in a weird place back then."

This wasn't working, Jon was clearly not buying what Tony had for sale and it made Tony's shoulders drop, deflated, at the rejection of the occupying bet, and readily move aside to collapse onto the mattress in disappointment, abandoning the tactic. Jon could have at least gotten mad at him for it. Without anything else prepared on tap to try to distract Jon out of this mood, he wallowed on his back where he fell, itching at his heart and staring across the bed at Jon's tiny apothecary at the other side of him, muttering, "Weren't we all? I mean, please." If Jon meant his school experience was somehow weirderer than his current place, though...That warranted following up. Tony rolled his head up to face the ceiling with a puzzled expression at this realization and asked quietly, not exactly at Jon who didn't seem to want much to do with him anymore right now, he got it, "What's weird to you?"

Sorry, Tony. He's too exhausted by everything at the moment to get mad.

"It's called puberty, I know." Jon agrees, moving to sit next to Tony, prodding the man's arm closest to him in a wordless inquiry to make some room for the Archivist to tug himself away at Tony's side, maybe let him rest his head on his shoulder this time. Being pinned down or teased may not be high on his list at the moment, but he does appreciate the company - And the potential warmth. "Didn't help that my grandmother passed away at that time, to be fair. Let myself be... Talked into a few things you would laugh at me for. Yes, it included dressing up as space pirates to go on a stage in a pub late at night." No more details on that should be needed.

"If you ask weird... I would offer taking you through our artifact storage. Or introduce you to Helen." No, it's true. The really weird things of Jon's life are situated in his most recent years now. Everything else falls under growing up.

Edited 2020-06-10 08:50 (UTC)

No longer wallowing but lounging carelessly, Tony's confidence was immediately back at the prodding, rejection forgotten to welcome Jon in the curl of his arm and glad to better occupy his fingers by walking them carefully over his scalp as he settled. Tony wasn't sure if he should offer his condolences for Jon's loss, it was a while ago and Tony wouldn't have wanted to hear it about his parents, but he did fully understand how losing a guardian could make a person go weird. They obviously had very different wild experiences, and, yes, Tony did start laughing already at 'dressing up', fully prepared for every detail that followed to be stupid, because that was very much not how he acted out. He would call that weird, sure, Jon wasn't wrong, and Tony was definitely going to need more details.

Tony waved off the offer with the hand still holding Jon's glasses, not meaning to imply he had any interest in getting closer to Jon's weird job or friends. "I've been there," he said with certainty. "Don't think I'd like it any better with a different tour guide." And he would much rather find out about who was convincing Jon to play pretend for the masses. "See, you already know, space pirates are the height of entertainment. You don't think Cayde's a bit of a space pirate? Oh, you know how definitely is? I'll get Poe to do it. Have you met?" Another important realization, Tony's fingers plucking at Jon's hair insistently, "That's your type," because he hadn't answered that question.

Finding his unspoken request accepted, Jon loses no time to settle down at Tony's side, head on the other man's shoulder and his hand replacing Tony's over his heart, feeling the heartbeat underneath and finding a content smile for himself that may not entirely visible to Tony from his angle. Though the lack of protest at the laugh may be telling in one way or another. And he's perfectly fine with not having to introduce anyone to any part of the Institute, so that rejection is perfectly acceptable.

"I'm familiar with Poe." Jon confirms, his tone dropping a little to the idle side now that he has gotten comfortable "Not sure how much of a pirate he is, but he certainly is a pilot. But please, Tony. Only because I needed to pay for living in London doesn't mean I have much interest in any more space pirates in my life." He makes a small, remotely bemused noise. "...you get a lot of inappropriate offers when you put on some horrid makeup and point a false gun at a drunken audience, though." And that may be the reason why he had been glad to have gotten the job at the Institute back then.

Why did no one agree with him about Poe's pirate thing? Someone else had to see it, maybe someone else who had watched enough Star Trek to see the dashing space rogue. All of these alien cultures had terrible cultural touchstones, they couldn't be reasoned with. With the glasses against his palm again, Tony gingerly touched Jon's fingertips with a flutter of anxiety changing the beat under his palm, but didn't tug them away, only nudged between his knuckles like he meant to arrange them nonchalantly. The work jumped as Tony started to chuckle again and asked, enchanted by this outline Jon was sketching for him, "What kind of pub was this?" The kind of offers young Jon must have been getting while dolled up in a bar didn't sound like they came with a contract. "I'm sorry I missed your big debut. You could have been a kept man all this time. Hey, you could be the entertainment-- that'll keep you occupied."

Jon watches Tony's fingers against his own and peers up at the man's laugh, smiling softly but not without the hint of a smirk and the slightest tilt of the head indicating a shrug "The locations changed. Pubs were one thing - Just imagine a regular pub. But I was also dragged to small events and- Whatever paid. I believe most of the group hoped to get into the arts. Me? I just could sing, yell at a room of drunk strangers and pretend to hold an instrument. Trust me, it was dreadful." And yet for once it was nice to talk about something other than monsters and things that wanted him dead.

"Though I'm afraid I must reject your offer to serve as general entertainment for the assembled souls." Jon notes with his eyes back to where his hand rests on Tony's chest, his index finger drawing faint circles where it lies without the rest of his palm moving. "I'm good with entertaining you."

"Wait--" As interested as Tony was in all of the ways Jon could be entertaining him, this one took precedence, enough to have him tipping Jon back onto the bed to brace himself up and stare down at him, ecstatic. Up until now, he had been picturing 'space pirates' as some kind of weird play act, maybe very misguided sketch comedy at an open mic night, he hadn't really made the connection that the venue must have meant a musical event. "Was this some kind of Bowie cover band?" he asked, and ruffled Jon's hair up to help form the image for himself which was already thoroughly in place, and this did the opposite of helping. Still, this was an exciting enough concept to him that he bounced up onto his knees again, saying, "And they paid you for it? I would have given anything to be able to go full Johnny Rotten and break bottles over my head when I was in school, I couldn't even do that shit outside of the workshop. I already had a gig lined up. You didn't want to do that?"

Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

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