11/20/2006 Hudson River Warehouse - Main Floor Within the main area of the Brotherhood's haven, Angelica has managed to find a moment of peace, not that such moments have been difficult for her to find. The young woman is curled up in the corner of one of the couches, lost in one of the books from the shelf, the first book of the Pier's Anthony series called "A Spell for Chameleon". There's a small smile on her face as she reads, a relaxed look replacing her usual wariness. Into this peace comes one Otto Octavius, a man large in presence if not stature, coming down the stairs for a much-needed but irregular meal. Though fairly disheveled (having been paying far more attention to his 'project' than the piddling mundane details of the flesh), the paunchy and often ill-tempered scientist fairly glows with triumph, and as he heads for the kitchen he's humming 'Flight of the Valkyries' under his breath. It's the humming that eventually gets Angelica's attention, floating into her awareness through the mental visualizations of the book, and she lifts her head, peeking around for the source. It's not very difficult for her to pick out the doctor, and she summons up a brave smile while offering a soft, "Afternoon." ------------------------------------------------------------------ Angelica has a pathetically endearing look to her. Long dark brown hair frame her oval face, while dark, sad brown eyes peer out from behind a few bangs. She has a tall, slender form, lacking any muscle worth noting. Currently, she is wearing blue jean overalls, with a warm, long-sleeved off-white shirt underneath. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Otto pauses long enough to give the girl a keen look from behind the unrevealing goggles, and then twists his mouth into a crooked grin. "Ah, another of Magneto's young... followers. Enjoying an idle moment, I see." Angelica uses a thumb to mark her place in the book as she looks over the man, then shrugs a shoulder. "You could say that, yes. I'm new around here, so I find it's often that I'm better off staying out of the way. I'm... Damsel. Or Angelica." "Staying out of the way is /no/ way to go through life, my dear," declares the doctor, not bothering to introduce himself. Surely she already knows, says his ego. "It's an existence better left to rabbits and jackals. Prey and scavengers." Angelica frowns as she takes that in, then tilts her head. "But... I'm hardly a predator, and being prey, as ya put it, works out strangely well for me," she counters with a small grin. "Although I guess you're right about the stayin' out of the way. Can't get out of trouble if you don't get in it in the first place." "Precisely!" says Octavius. "More to the point, you cannot realize your potential by sitting about reading trash." His stomach reminding him what he came down here for, he makes an authoritative gesture for her to follow and then heads for the kitchen without looking back to see if she obeys. Angelica blinks at the gesture, but not being all that authoritative herself, she does get up from her seat, following him into the kitchen, abandoning the book on the couch. "Can't much argue with that," the woman responds, crossing her arms. The rumpled, middle-aged nuclear physicist is already poking about the larder like he owned the place, considering his options. Having subsisted on sandwiches and coffee for days, and with one major weight off his shoulders in the form of a tangible, if incomplete, back-of-the-mind presence lurking upstairs in his quarters, he's in the mood for something more elaborate. But what? "Hmmm. What is it, precisely, that you /do/?" he asks her. Angelica stops just inside the kitchen, hovering uncertainly in the doorway and watching the odd doctor as he searches for food. "Me? Oh, well, I can make people want to help me when I'm in trouble," she answers simply. Otto straightens up from his lean into the refrigerator and turns to look at her. "Really." His smile is slow and sinister. "Interesting." He draws the word out slightly. Angelica shrinks back a bit at that sinister smile, her brows lifting and arms hugging herself tighter, although she does nod and give a hint of a smile. "It's... an aura I have. Comes in handy when I need it." Otto's chuckle is equally nefarious, a throaty sound that suggests it means no one any good. "I imagine that it does. Can you control it?" Turning back to his study of the fridge interior, he spots a container of fresh crabmeat and, near it, a package of bacon. Ah, hah. He retrieves them and a few other ingredients, setting them out on the wide counter one by one. Angelica doesn't like the sound of that chuckle and shivers a bit as he turns back to the fridge. "Oh, a little bit. How far it can extend to and such..." Understating, but the man makes her uncomfortable. Falling silent, she goes back to merely watching him pull out the containers, somewhat curious as to what he's cooking up. "And what of the type of /help/ that you receive?" More of the Brotherhood's larder is pilfered: potatoes, celery, milk, an onion, various seasonings, the extra-virgin olive oil, the cooking sherry (though Octavius sneers a little at the label as though finding it less than ideal). He snaps fingers at her, gesturing her over commandingly. "Make yourself useful, by the way, will you?" He points at the chopping board and the two russet potatoes sitting next to it. "Clean, peel, and cut those. Half-inch squares." [OOC] Otto shares, by the way: http://food.yahoo.com/recipes/rachael-ray/112495/bacon-and-crab-chowder "Depends on the trouble," Angelica answers as she moves over to the cutting board and grabs up the knife, starting on potatoes as directed. "First time it happened, my attacker was pulled away from me and chased off by some mighty unhappy folks. Get a lot of escorts when I go places, too. Folks wantin' to make sure I get places okay." Otto studies the collection of ingredients and, satisfied, closes the fridge and sets to work chopping the red bell pepper. The onion gets set down next to Angelica's cutting board, presumably for her to tackle after she's done with the potatoes. Trust Octavius to give the less-pleasant jobs to others. "Ah. So, you have no /direct/ control over the effects of your ability." Angelica eyes the onion as it's set next to her board, but makes no complaint, apparently willing to move on to it once the potatoes are cut. "Well, now, I wouldn't say that," she answers vaguely, shrugging slightly. "Ya just gotta take in all the factors." "Do elaborate," says Dr. Octavius, glancing briefly at her. Cooking aside, he's paying quite close attention. "Um, welll..." Angelica starts uncertainly, then shrugs as she finishes one potato and starts on the next. "It's like... The power of suggestion. You tell someone to 'Do something', they'll have to figure out what that something is for themselves. But if you provide a more specific suggestion, the response is less... random." "But if someone was determined to cause you harm..." Octavius lets this trail off with a smirk as he cuts up the pepper with efficient, precise motions. Angelica glances over at him, then back down to her less precise cutting work. "Well, they can certainly determine to try. I'm not invincible, been hurt before, but I've learned a lot more since then." Otto nods, the knowing smirk still lingering. "And thus they call you 'Damsel'. As in the damsel in distress. Heh-eh." Again, that grating chuckle. "You know, of course, who I am." It's not a question. Angelica doesn't know, but the way that is worded, she can't quite /admit/ that, now can she? She blinks a bit down at the potato she's cutting, then smiles. "Of... Of course. It'd be hard not to. And yes, that's why I'm called that." Otto scrapes the chopped red bell pepper into a bowl and then takes the cutting knife to the celery. His expression is smug, confident. "So, you play the victim and direct others to help you when you are in distress. You make others feel well-disposed toward you." He pauses to peer sidelong at her, his smile tight and hard. "What brought you into Brotherhood, I wonder?" Angelica finishes with the second potato and reaches for the onion, starting to peel off the outer layers. "Play the victim?" she asks, her brow raising. "Sir, if you knew my history, perhaps you'd know how this saved me from situations folks should never be in." She takes in a breath, then lets it out. "It was the broadcast, Magneto's speech. Made me want to do somethin' with my ability, instead of just usin' it to get out of my own distress." "Ahhh, of course," says Otto Octavius, nodding slightly. "The Master of Magnetism does have a way of attracting more than metal, doesn't he?" Again that low chuckle. "Clips of that broadcast continue to circulate over the Internet, do you know? I imagine that it continues to stir and draw troubled souls." Angelica nods, her small smile returning, even if her eyes are starting to water because of the onion she's cutting. "So I've gathered in the short time I've been here. He's a good man, as Toad said. I've been nothing but impressed by him. He's someone ya can really respect. Can listen to." While the girl struggles with the onion, Octavius chops celery and then bacon before moving onto phase two: actual cooking. He sets a medium-sized pot on the stove, turns on the heat, and adds a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil. "The world is full of good men," he remarks as he adds the chopped-up bacon. "Impressive men with... causes." His mouth twists into an amused smirk. Angelica glances sideways at Otto as she finishes chopping up the onion, then smiles. "Hmmm, you may be right, although I've run into very few of those good men in my life," she says dryly. "And it's the causes, I think, that raise those few from being good to impressive. You can tell a lot about a person by the causes they support." Otto makes a dismissive gesture. "I've met any number of people who were not at all improved by the flags under which they rallied, and others who have drawn any number of followers for no cause other than their own glory." He stirs the sizzling bacon around a bit in the bottom of the pot; the smell becomes pervasive, and woe to any vegetarians in the Brotherhood. Angelica dips her head in a faint nod, stepping to the side now that her work at the cutting board is finished. "Well, there are ever the rotten apples that get mixed in with the good. Wheat and chaff. Exceptions to every rule and observation." Otto leaves the bacon sizzling in order to check over the results of her work, which judging by his expression is... adequate but acceptable. No more. "So. Apart from your, hm, inborn skills, what can you do?" He moves the onion and potatoes closer to the stove, then, now that the chopped bacon's nicely crisped, uses a slotted spoon to remove it from the pot and lay it on a paper-towel-covered plate to drain. Angelica gives a faint smirk at his judgment of her work, then chuckles. "Apart from that? I don't have much fighting use if that's what you mean. Know people who can get things that aren't easily gotten." She shrugs a shoulder. "I managed a store..." Otto, as she answers, pours off most of the bacon grease (though not all), and then adds ingredients to the pot, including all the chopped vegetables and some of the seasonings. "Ah? What sort of things, I wonder." He stirs the mixture slowly, keeping an eye on the consistency and the clock. Angelica is silent for a moment, then rests her hands on the counter, leaning against it slightly with a sigh. "Let's just say I've an understandin' of how the streets work. And I know folks there. Used to be into things that I shouldn't've been." "A damsel with a troubled past," Octavius muses aloud, sounding a trifle amused. "And ashamed of it." Angelica glances over at Otto again, a sharper look this time, her eyes narrowing. "If I am ashamed of anything, it is that I did not stop things sooner," she answers darkly, then clears her throat. "What about you? What brings /you/ here?" Otto turns to look at her for a moment, wooden spoon in hand, head raised and expression arch. "An arrangement of convenience. Your esteemed /leader/ offered his services in exchange for the use of my expertise for the benefit of your coalition of... radicals. I chose to accept." Well, it was a brief, bold moment. Angelica takes a step back as he turns toward her, crossing her arms, and she nods to his response. "A mutually beneficial arrangement for now... Might I ask what your expertise is?" Otto raises his eyebrows. "Ah. And here I thought you knew who I was." Her lack of knowledge makes him rather more sneery, rather than disappointed as it might a man with a lesser ego. He draws himself to his full height, such as it is. "I am /Dr. Otto Octavius/, little girl. I am the /foremost/ authority on nuclear physics." He turns back to the simmering pot to stir a bit more and then adds a few tablespoons of flour. Angelica lifts her brows at Otto's introduction, searching her mind for who that might be. Of course, she had heard the talk about him the other night... "The one who took over Ryker's, no?" She gives a small grin, but it disappears quickly. "An honor then, I'm sure. I could definitely see how a man of such genius would be of value here." Otto grins crookedly as he stirs the pot. "Naturally." He examines the contents, adds chicken broth and, after more stirring, the milk. Whatever it is, it smells quite good. Otto Octavius can cook; who knew? "Of course," he says as he covers the pot for simmering and, after washing his hands again, checks the crabmeat for stray bits of shell, "it's rare for me to find time between my own, mm, projects. Magneto was fortunate enough to catch me in a bit of a trough, activity-wise." Definitely smells good, and it's keeping Angelica's attention divided, but she smiles in response. "That's certainly fortunate. Interesting where circumstances lead someone to. No doubt you still have a project or two you're working on aside from how you're helping here. An authority like yourself, I imagine, is never idle." "You imagine correctly," says Octavius, rather archly as he combines the crabmeat with thyme and Old Bay. This then goes into the pot and stirred some more. "I admit that I get quite, hm, /bored/ if I'm not working." He leans over a bit and inhales the aroma with obvious satisfaction. Other than a nod, there is no immediate response from Angelica. She merely observes the doctor at work with his crab dinner, then smiles. "Boredom is never fun for anyone, especially one like yourself, I imagine. Can lead to some interesting ideas, however, in an attempt to entertain oneself." "No mere entertainment," Otto says archly, as the soup thickens. "I am not the Green Goblin, cavorting about for the /fun/ of it." He sneers. "All that I do has a /purpose/... even if lesser minds lack the ability to comprehend that purpose." "Oh, of course," Angelica is quick to answer. "I'd not think it any other way. /Most/ folks might be seeking the entertainment, but anyone can tell that you are not like most folks." Otto gives her a sharp look. "Don't patronize me, girl," he growls, a touch of the prickly Octavian temper leaking through his good mood. Angelica cringes at the growl, taking another step back, eyes widening in fear. "I was agreein', nothin' more. Meant nothin' else by it." Partly in instinct, partly purposefully, she starts inching her aura out farther from her, closer to the doctor. Otto watches her narrowly for a moment and then snorts derisively and turns his attention back to the pot. In, at the last, goes the bacon and the cooking sherry. "I believe that the bowls are in the cabinet to the side of the sink," he says. "You may get one for yourself if you wish." Payment for chopping up the onion and potatoes, perhaps? Angelica shudders once again as he turns away, then moves to get two bowls. Dealing with tempers and egos is worth good food. "Thank you," she offers meekly, then grabs spoons as well. Meek gratitude. An excellent tack to take when dealing with a prickly Octopus. Otto is mollified, at least for the moment. "This, by the way, was my mother's recipe. Hm." He looks thoughtfully at the pantry. "I wonder if Magneto has any oyster crackers in stock..." Angelica sets the bowl and spoons down, then steps away. "I can look," she offers, then steps over to look around in the cupboards they're most likely in. "And it smells delicious. Definitely better than my own mother's cooking," she offers with a smile. "I daresay it was one of the reasons my father married her," Octavius says dryly. He serves himself, turns the heat on the stove down to a low simmer -- just enough to keep the remainder warm -- and takes a seat at the kitchen table. Angelica can ladle the bacon and crab chowder into her own bowl; Otto Octavius serves no one. Angelica, on the other hand, is quite used to serving. Once she's retrieved the crackers, she sets them on the table. "Is there anything you wish to drink?" she asks while she dishes out her own bowl. Otto was actually just considering that very question. "Glass of milk will do." How... wholesome. And healthy. He eyeballs her. "/Not/ the skim," he adds. Perhaps not so healthy. Angelica nods and grabs down a glass before heading to the fridge to fill it with whole milk. She walks over and places it next to him with a smile, then moves back to pick up her bowl. "It was good to meet you, Doctor, but I believe I shall take this up to my room. I've my own work to get back to." Otto twists his mouth into an unpleasant-looking smile. "Of course. It was a pleasure speaking to you, Angelica." He makes a half-waving, half-shooing gesture as if giving her permission to depart.