ataraxion | Ω 2 Ω [Video]

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Ω 2 Ω [Video]

[Alex has decided that until he found a better way to deal with this, he has to use video on this network. Otherwise, no one was going to be able to tell him and the other Alex apart. At least--for now.]

Look, I apologize in advance for the lack of filters on this message. The technology here is a bit more than I'm used to; still trying to get the hang of it.

[If someone wants to teach him, by all means.

Letting out a breath, he works his jaw slightly, again taking time to phrase out his words. Calling people out on the network is always a gamble, and as he hasn't learned how to sort through the system yet, he isn't even sure if these people are here. But hey--it's worth a shot.]

First off--if anyone knows a guy named Eames, Arthur, or a girl named Ariadne [He thinks that was her name] I'd appreciate if you or they got in touch with me. I got some information that might interest them.

[He shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly.]

I was wondering if there are any sparring groups set up on board already? Working out by myself is fine, but I'd rather have someone to go up against if possible.

[And then the big question; the one that's been bothering him since he arrived here. He hates talking so much as it is (when half the people aren't really going to give a shit, at least), but this one was probably the most important.]

And... does anyone know if there is a secure bunker on board? Like 'survive a nuclear explosion' secure.

[He needed somewhere to practice his powers, damn it, without blowing a hole in the hull.]

So uh..that's it. Thanks, or whatever.

[And he shuts the feed down.]

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Alex Summers. But you can call me Havok.

[Alex doesn't sigh, but he is silent for a moment. So this isn't the Eames that knows him; he expects that, by now. This either was going to work out for him, or go completely to shit.

Hopefully, he can pull this off.

That's all he says, for now. Because--well. How do you even go about this? Coming right out with the information on the PASIV, or anything telling would immediately put Eames on his guard--which he doesn't want.]

Havok? That's not a very kind nickname. [ He sounds vaguely amused, though it's admittedly more superficial than genuine to what may be Alex's trained ear. ]

Alex, then. You know - the only Alexander I know on an informational level is a rather large Swahilian with facial tattoos. I'd say you're a bit on the opposite in that respect.

What do you have for me?

Well what I can do isn't really considered kind.

[He knows that tone. He knows that Eames is going to be paranoid. And he knows he is going to fuck this up.]

And the last time you talked, he gave you bad information--I know.

[Which is true--he told the story the first time.]

I didn't come here from my own world. Coming here? Was waking up from a dream--a level.

[And there it was. Calculated and out there.]

[ The nice thing about the audio function of these devices is that Eames can give himself time to think over his responses, to gauge the response given itself to begin with, and not have to work so much as far as the maintenance of his own first reactions. Though Alex can't see it, Eames is frowning at the thing, turning it over in his hand a few times as he listens to the clip. ]

Seems all of my memory's not returned to me after all. [ He can't be too surprised, in the end - he'd spent the first week trying to recall his own name, even with Arthur and Ariadne's confident telling; there's a difference between knowing something and being told it.

He can only assume this Alex is telling him this because he knows of his experience within dreams and the artificial leveling of them, though the boy seems a bit young to be in the field himself as an extractor. A surveyor, could be, they've always needed handfuls of those, runners and the like. His own world, though. Curious specifics of that.

He'll need to know more, later. For now: ]

And what gives you the impression you're not still fast asleep, Mister Summers? It's not everyday one finds themselves upon a ship without windows to see the supposed space we ought to be flying through.

Edited 2012-05-22 01:03 (UTC)

Or you never knew me in the first place.

[Alex sort of mutters that under his breath; he knows the reality of the situation. And he's strong enough to deal with this, he knows it--but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

Whatever. Pick it up, go on. Try to forge a friendship with this Eames; if it works out, it does. If it doesn't, fuck it.]

Maybe we are. Maybe I just went down another level. All I know is that I'm not back in reality, and you aren't the same Eames I knew in the last dream scape.

If it was truly a dream, there's far more deception than just in the environment.

[ He does pause, though. ]

You're already able to tell?

Maybe it isn't--this is your expertise, not mine.

[There is a snort.]

I'm pretty sure I'd know if you knew me.

You may be an ass, but you're not that much of one.

So you say. You must have known me quite well.

I lived with you for a month.

[ Eames doesn't keep roommates as a habit; the significance is apparent enough. ]

It's somewhat unfair, don't you think? Apparently you know so much of me, but I'm rather lacking.