Pillsbury + 1 year:

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FreeFlier
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by FreeFlier »

And ever-body knows!


Which isn't quite as entertaining as having the happy couple being the last to figure it out . . . :twisted:

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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Sgt. Howard »

GlytchMeister wrote:
Warrl wrote:Are you sure that the real Mrs. Howard didn't have some input into that? :mrgreen:
Not that I know of...
Annie and I DID discuss it, in fact...
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »



And damn near ran right into Tina - whose smile was of the sort one would normally see on an inspired mad engineer upon finding themselves in a position to acquire a friction stir welder. Which is to say something either very good, or very bad, was going to happen.

How did you know I just got a new welder...?

Ohboy. Just the RIGHT person at just the WRONG time... :)
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by GlytchMeister »

OOOOH YOU GOT A FRICTION STIR WELDER?!?
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »

GlytchMeister wrote:OOOOH YOU GOT A FRICTION STIR WELDER?!?
You...you...you just made me blow my peanut butter toast across the room.

Gee, thanks. Getting the peanut butter out of the cavity magnetron is going to SUCK.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by GlytchMeister »

*literally vibrating with excitement*

Sorry you made a mess...
...
...
ComeonIwannaknowallaboutitpleasegimmethedetailsmanImeanaFrictionStirWelder?

The welds can be stronger than the parent material! How cool is that! Have you done anything with it yet?
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Dave »

Now, you guys certainly know that what you really want to have, is one of the laser-assisted friction stir welding systems that was developed over in Israel some years ago, right? Laser heating of the joint area reduces the amount of pressure that the stir welder has to apply to the joint area, and cuts down on the tool wear.

Here's the original research paper on it, courtesy of the guys at Rotem and at the Nuclear Research Center in בְּאֵר שֶׁבַע : https://app.aws.org/wj/2002/02/feature2/

For our occasionally stir-crazy madboys, nothing beats some advanced Zion's friction!
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »

Dave wrote: For our occasionally stir-crazy madboys, nothing beats some advanced Zion's friction!
Pun jar.
Now.

That was AWFUL.
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by GlytchMeister »

Don't mind me, just having an engineergasm as I drool over the idea of LASER ASSISTED FRICTION STIR WELDING.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Dave »

(Dave places a one-pound box of Land O'Lakes unsalted weld butter into the Pun Jar)
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by AmriloJim »

Just Old Al wrote:
Dave wrote: For our occasionally stir-crazy madboys, nothing beats some advanced Zion's friction!
Pun jar.
Now.

That was AWFUL.
No, that was, as Arlo says at 16:44, horrible.
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »

Aaaaand...back to the story.

AN: GLytch was in on the dialogue...dopey me.



She focused on Glytch – and if at all possible her smile became even wider. The combination of that and her swirling silvery eyes was disconcerting to say the least – and Glytch backed against the bathroom door in an involuntary reaction.

She advanced on him, eyes unblinking, and her voice while hers was somehow not hers.

“You’re doomed.”

Glytch recoiled at the statement. What in the name of the Universe was Tina going on about?

“Tina, what do you mean I’m doomed? I don’t get it-“

In the quiet, not-quite-Tina voice she continued.

“You are doomed – unless you want to you will never get away from her.

You’ll be forced to endure endless cuddling tortures on the couch, long walks in the sand at the sandbar, eating dinners one-handed where you won’t remember what you ate but you will remember WHO you ate it with.”


Glytch’s head spun. Where was Tina getting this? How did SHE know what had just gone on?

“You are up against a partner who can keep up with you, and in some ways run you into the ground. Her intellect matches yours, her skills and experience outweigh yours, and she can keep up with you at a ball, on a mission, or in an alley in Algiers where death is on the line.

The depth of your relationship will be so far past where you are now that this will seem like a laugh at one of the Sergeant-Major’s puns.

You’re doomed – if you choose to be. What’cha gonna do?”


With that, her demeanor changed, becoming the familiar Tina - friend and confidante of the coffee shop. “Hey, Glytch! Wow – where did that all come from? You OK?”

Shaken, Glytch replied, “Uh, yeah. Thanks. I’m...I'm fine. I, uh, need to go find Sarge – and, and Al. Can I talk to you later?” Doom... Sometimes words have two meanings...

“Sure! See you later!” Then again, the quiet voice remarked “Look at him – he knows he’s doomed…and he still struggles.”

With that Glytch took the only course of action open to him – he retreated from the field. Where are those two old guys? I need help on this…bad.
Last edited by Just Old Al on Tue Nov 08, 2016 2:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by FreeFlier »

AmriloJim wrote:
Just Old Al wrote:
Dave wrote:For our occasionally stir-crazy madboys, nothing beats some advanced Zion's friction!
Pun jar.
Now.

That was AWFUL.
No, that was, as Arlo says at 16:44, horrible.
"I'm not proud.

Or tired."


Yep, Glytch is doomed.

There's only one thing he can do . . .


. . .


surrender to fate.

Or to Brandy . . . it's much the same.

--FreeFlier
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »

FreeFlier wrote:
surrender to fate.

Or to Brandi . . . it's much the same.

--FreeFlier
Glytch is going to haul goods from place to place?

Oh, you said FATE...not FREIGHT. Dopey me.
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by chicgeek »

*hums* Brandi, you're a fine girl...
Yep, running away to sea might be Glytch's only hope.

*drops a looking glass in the pun jar, just in case*
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Dave »

Just Old Al wrote:Glytch is going to haul goods from place to place?
Even at his young age, I'm sure he has some emotional baggage to haul around. All of us do...
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by Just Old Al »

Dave wrote: Even at his young age, I'm sure he has some emotional baggage to haul around. All of us do...
All you can hope for in life is to find someone whose baggage matches yours.
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by GlytchMeister »

Dave wrote:
Just Old Al wrote:Glytch is going to haul goods from place to place?
Even at his young age, I'm sure he has some emotional baggage to haul around. All of us do...
Considering his backstory with his father (remember, Demons of the Past takes place after the Reunion party), he certainly has some baggage.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
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I'm too much!
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by GlytchMeister »

{Author's Note: Collaboration between Sarge, Al, and I - been too long since we've really knocked a chunk back and forth, it's good to be back in business!}

Glytch made a beeline for Al first, dodging conversations and eyes with professional ease - hunched over slightly, hood pulled low and never making eye contact, weaving through the crowd with quick, light footwork and occasionally leaning this way and that to avoid accidentally bumping into anyone. Whenever a face began to turn toward him, he pivoted sharply and disappeared into the crowd, using the lightshow and the other partiers for cover.

Glytch was on a mission... He pulled out all the stops in accomplishing it without delay - and he was an expert at social stealth, after having spent years on the run.

He forgot to turn it off when he finally got to his destination. Approaching from behind, he leaned close to Al, with the old soldier none the wiser, and spoke in a low yet purposeful voice. "I need to speak with you and Sarge.”

Al, for his part, had just settled down with the plate he’d craved all evening. Sashimi notwithstanding, he now faced a plate of rare roast beef with horseradish and a minimum of other distractions. As he raised his utensils, Glytch’s voice sounded in his ear, his kinesthetic senses having completely failed him in warning of the madboy’s headlong rush.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH DAMNIT GLYTCH DON’T DO THAT!” the old man shouted, nearly leaping from his chair at the verbal intrusion on his gustatory reverie. With that, the other people at the table started, then laughed as they saw the tableau.

“Now, dear, you know Glytch can’t help doing that.” Daisy said soothingly, with a nod and a wink at Glytch at the score. “Now, if perhaps you paid more attention to your environment and less to your plate…”

Al scowled and looked at his wife, seeing the twinkle in her eye. “You wound me, dear. Shot to the heart, I bleed from your sally.”

Glytch interrupted, his agitation showing through. “Look, I really, really need to talk to you. Where’s Sarge?”

Al stopped, Glytch’s agitation finally registering on his consciousness. “Certainly. Let’s collect the reprobate and talk in my office. No one will disturb us there.”

With that Al stood, with a wistful look at his untouched plate.

They found Greg across the room, storytelling as he did so well. “There I was at 6,000 feet at the back door of the C-47, nothing between me and the drop zone but empty air and 60-year-old period paratroop equipment. We jumped with full gear, and…”

He slithered to a halt at noting Al’s signal to him and the obvious distress shown in Glytch’s body language. “Folks, I’ll be right back. Obviously Al’s managed to botch something and needs me to straighten it out.“ He detached himself from the group and followed the pair, heading up to Al’s office.

Glytch surreptitiously snagged a plate of meat, cheese, and crackers as he followed along behind the two old soldiers, spinning deftly as he narrowly avoided a collision with Georgette.

They settled at the table, and odd tableau in the subdued light. Al and Greg were anticipatory, realizing there was a dire issue indeed to have agitated their colleague to this level.

Glytch set down the plate of snacks on the table with a meaningful glance at Al before taking a deep, slow, steadying breath. As he breathed, he straightened. His eyes flicked around the room - his stressed condition had made him regress to some old habits and patterns - his brain, already running at top speed, began to take in every detail of the room as quickly as possible. It was almost a meditative action for Glytch... Focusing on observation helped to ground him and helped force his mind from twisting inward upon itself in endless loops of "what if" and "WTF."

Seeing the way things were set up, he clasped his hands behind his back; another old habit, borne from his propensity to touch every single thing when he was a knowledge-hungry child in stores and museums... Though, clasping his hands behind his back looked a little more dignified than stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Al's office was the office of a man who took pride in his intellect, and rightly so. Glytch gravitated toward the bookshelves first, stepping quietly until his breath nearly steamed on the glass. The shelves were loaded with old, nearly ancient books. Chaucer and Shakespeare were glanced at, but 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, an Anthology of Edgar Allan Poe, and The War of the Worlds caught Glytch's eye.

Good taste in books...

Elsewhere was what appeared to be a control wheel for a plane of some sort. A chunk was missing... Glytch peered at it and spied a smear of copper and lead. Ricochet... Small arms fire. That must've been exciting and annoying. Some photos of people in uniform... Glytch glossed over those and lingered on the civilian pictures. Relatives? Or old friends?
Then, he saw a picture of a striking woman... Glytch noticed many things about it immediately. Cheap frame, but the photo has been kept for a long time... Shows signs of damage and wear... And has been on display for many years; fading indicates it was long exposed to light. Older than almost any other photo here. Clearly someone both important and yet painful... Important enough to have him require the picture be there and on display, yet painful enough to never speak of her. Perhaps a lost sibling, or a former wife. Either way, a ghost of his past.
Glytch pivoted and quickly examined the weapons on display - a 1911 in a custom case with a plaque, Al's two elvish knives, and a third knife... A aged, narrow, double-edged dagger. Obviously made for combat.
In another area were bits and bobs, antique machinery and parts... Some of which had been repaired with varying degrees of improvisation.

All of this observation took place within a matter of seconds - Glytch quite literally walked to the books during his inhale, then pivoted on the spot as he examined the rest of the room and came to a rest with his back to the bookshelf, facing the two old soldiers just as he finished his slow exhalation. His shoulders relaxed a bit, but his fingers continued to tap against his hands behind his back as he spoke.

"So I just got blindsided by the hormonal equivalent of a cement truck." Glytch opened with a slight smirk, hoping to bring the two off the edge of their seats. "I haven't had that happen since high school... And back then, I kinda had bigger fish to fry... What with my, eh, father and everything. I've had a few flings and flirts. But nothing really all that serious, y'know? I didn't give in to any of my hormonal urges and biological desires. I was too busy, I wasn't in a good situation, I was on the lam, I was dirt poor... There was always something." Glytch paused and walked to the table - his movements were still oddly silent and smooth. Al and Sarge glanced at each other - the boy was subconsciously trying to avoid detection. He was in the midst of a full-on "fight or flight" response, and he was obviously holding it back with every iota of his willpower... The mere fact that he was speaking coherently was a testament to how much control he had over himself.
"But now? Now I actually have enough money to, y'know, buy stuff. To... Live. Not just survive. I don't have to go out into the woods and trap rabbits every other weekend to get my protein. I have a good little house and a good car and," he chuckled here, "and I actually have toys. I have a steady job with a good paycheck, I have a family of friends that I don't have to run away from... So everything is all set and good to go, right? I'm good. I'm go for takeoff. And then, out of the blue, it's Brandi of all people I take a shine to!" Glytch's smile had become... Disconcerting by this point. It had slipped, and a worrying light was shining in his eyes. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I mean, yeah, technically she's not gonna be my boss in a few days, I'm turning into a 'Safe Harbor' Contractor of sorts... But... But it's goddamn Brandi!" Glytch threw his arms into the air in an exaggerated shrug, letting them fall and slap at his sides. "What in nine hells is my next step for cryin' out loud? I have no idea what I'm doing! I have no useful experience in this realm, I'm completely out of my area of expertise. Is it even proper for me to... To try? How do I even make my intentions known without being a complete lecher? I don't know the protocols here, there aren't any books or instruction manuals... Well, there are, but they're all bullshit... And then I get Tina going all spooky on me talking about my doom... I think she means my fate, or destiny, but only if I choose it... Like I really need some spooky-ass oracle or whatever spinnin' yarns about my future now..."

"Now hold on there, young fellow," Greg quietly cut across Glytch's tailspin, "... let's keep a perspective here- first of all, this sort of thing happens all the time. Yup, Brandi is yer boss... wait a minute... did I hear you say she's cutting you loose as a 'Safe Harbor' contractor?"
"Uh, yea... that's what she just told me,"
Greg pondered this for a moment- deliberately kicking him 'out of the nest' as it were, making him fair game... THAT's what rattled the boy. He gave a meaningful glance to Al- who caught it on the downbeat.
"Upon my word," Al softly muttered, "Is THAT the conversation you just had with her?"
"Uh, yea... just before I got a hold of you two,"
Al took a deep breath- there was no reason to downshift Glytch in this manner... not that it would make any difference in pay or status... but to release him of umbrella membership... the primary difference was the removal of Brandi from his chain of command.
It was a matter of personal ethics- and the implications were pretty clear.
Greg was in parallel thought- such a move had little advantage one way or the other- unless a liaison other than professional was in order...
"Well," Greg intoned, "I would guess that Brandi has certainly cleared any ... obstructions... to your... attentions... by this move... and I am guessing here your major issue is this- what do YOU want? I mean, the 'hows' and 'whys' tend to sort themselves out as you go- but is this something you actually want, I guess is the real issue,"
Glytch looked at the two men nervously- "I... I really don't know- it just kinda ... happened... you know..."
Al snorted at this- "Greg, you didn't...?"
Greg cut him off- "No, this is not my machinations- I did see this happen, and I was rather expecting this conversation... but this is pure serendipity here. Brandi approached Glytch and in less than two minutes had him spooked, poor fellah. No, all I can tell you is two things- first of all, my biggest regrets have always been the things I didn't do," Al smirked at this, "... and secondly, just be you and let things follow their course."

Al joined in at this point - Greg had broken Glytch out and given him direction, so now it was his turn to drive the points home.

"First off, Glytch, remember first and foremost you are in control." This statement helped little, as Glytch was still rigidly derailing his fight or flight reflexes and not relaxing an iota. "This is YOUR call, good, bad or however it plays out. YOU are driving this bus no matter what your hormones are telling you."

"Secondly, to put not too fine a point on it, Brandi has released you from her chain of command, no matter what the initial reason might have been. This is as Greg put it an ethical matter - you two will no longer be in a supervisor and subordinate relationship, so this is 'fair game.' " Al made quote marks over the last two words - emphasizing them.

Glytch slowed, realizing what both of them had said. "So, there's no ethical reason that we can't? You're right...." Glytch thought about the ramifications of that statement and the implicit statements behind that act.

Al continued. "Third, in THAT VERY HOUSE I remember a certain hooded young lad ripping me a new orifice or two over the fact that I was being a timid lover. I think the exact words were "It is because we are at war that one should live and love as though it is our last chance. Because it might very well BE our last chance." I think it was put more succinctly by saying 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may - the times they are a flying.' - or that young man again stating that "Opportunities missed hurt the most."

Al looked Glytch in the hood."Nothing you are doing is irrevocable. It may be a romance for the ages - or it may be a fling for a while and you part friends. YOU WILL NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU TRY."

Glytch looked at him. "What about the age difference?"

Greg snickered. "Hell, people will act like you're a cradle robber. I wouldn't worry about it."

Al laughed. "Of couse you wouldn't worry about it, because you ARE a cradle robber. That young woman you dally with...scandalous."

Greg replied, "Just because you had to be led by the...hand to meet your dam doesn't mean that all of us-"

Glytch interrupted, annoyed that the two old soldiers had started bickering. "No, that's not what I mean. She's-"

Greg picked it up again, more gently this time. "Yes, she is an immortal and thousands of years older than you. She is also a beautiful, talented, brilliant young woman who has set her cap for YOU, boy.

Let's look at it this way. You've known Brandi for a few years now. She was in and out of here often through the siege, and you went to work for her at MIB. Have you ANYWHERE in that time seen her behave in a manner you do not like or find repellent?"

Glytch rocked a bit. "Well, no, but-"

Al picked it up. "But nothing, lad. The only reason you are thinking of this now is indecision. Your mind is looking for excuses to procrastinate or run, and it's not finding any. So it's throwing out a net and examining everything it pulls in, no matter how irrelevant. In this case age means less than nothing - you are you and she is that delectable goddess that you just had a run-in with. If you what-if and hesitate and generally drive yourself mad with this the opportunity may slip away - and that would be a crime in itself."

Greg spoke again, soft and gentle. "Glytch - you literally have nothing to lose here. Even if you part, if you want it you will still always be friends - I can't see Brandi as a vindictive lover."

Glytch stared first at Sarge, then at Al, before looking down at the floor and taking another deep breath. This time, his technique actually did help him relax. His mind stopped whirring along a mile a minute just long enough for him to change gear. The two elders could almost see Glytch dropping the clutch.
"Right. Sarge, you said Al had to be led by the hand to Daisy, correct? Al, you suspected Sarge of having had a hand in this... I suspect Sarge has gained a reputation for orchestrating encounters such as this... And I rather think Sarge was one of the chess masters involved in pushing you and Daisy together initially. Correct?"
The two nodded. Glytch's demeanor had changed dramatically... They were starting to see him return to his old madboy self.
"What, pray tell, did you do?" Glytch sat down at the table, snatched a cracker and some toppings before peering out at the two old reprobates over steepled fingers, his eyes glinting under his hood.
"He sprung a trap on me, is what he did," Al responded, a touch indignant. "One minute I'm minding my own business, next I'm caught between Daisy and a dance floor."
"And you didn't mind it one bit, don't you pretend you're mad about it!"
"I suppose you're right."
Sarge turned back to Glytch. "I ambushed him with a set of perfect circumstances, and left him with only two choices - yes, or no."

Glytch leaned back in his chair. "Interesting. Well... I'm certainly feeling better about all this. Thanks, both of you. I trust you two can behave yourselves? Last thing I need is someone springing traps on me..." Sometimes, the surest way to get someone to do something is to tell them not to do it... Glytch stood and headed toward the door. "I'd better go back before Xera hunts me down."
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
FreeFlier
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Re: Pillsbury + 1 year:

Post by FreeFlier »

o-kay . . . asking to be manipulated . . . Don't believe I've seen that one before!

--FreeFlier
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