A Musical Interlude

[nomen_est_numen]

["Delivery for Mister Shen..." A courier delivers a bizarrely-shaped package for the bird in question, who is still under observation at the Labs. This object turns out to be a Chinese lute.]

[He's festooned with sensors and still looking rather tired, but Shen finds a comfortable place to sit and stretches, cracking the knuckles... of his... feet.... That done, he picks up the lute and strikes a few chords on it, a wing pressing the frets and a foot strumming the strings. It's a somewhat contortionist style of playing, but appears to work. His playing is passable, even pleasant. His singing, on the other hand, is a bit... rusty.]

[For the next twenty minutes, Shen plucks at those strings and warbles in Chinese, his voice occasionally cracking in a truly avian keeeeOWW. Folks can understand the words, though the metaphors are pretty difficult to parse, seeing as he's probably the worst lyricist this side of the legendary Song So Poo, Court Composer for the Kantwin Dynasty.]

[Pity anyone stuck in the observation room with him.]

[EDIT: As though that weren't bad enough, he and Gordon are now singed, torn up, bruised, and twitching messes. While Shen may still be in the observation room, Gordon's in the lab at large. Oh, dear.]

Comments

[trustycrowbar]

[He draws in a sharp breath, leans against the table away from the point of the knife, and his eyes narrow at him as he looks down. Jesus... Stay calm, Gordon, stay focused. He speaks very low and slow.]

Shen... put. The knife. Away.

[nomen_est_numen]

[Shen goes very still, the knife still poised, his from still trembling.]

Don't presume to tell me what to do.

[His breathing is fast, now, but with his eyes still narrowed there's still a chance at grasping some lucidity.]

[trustycrowbar]

[Christ, he's not thinking straight. He must still be a little dazed from the nanites... Gordon desperately tries to keep his voice steady.]

Whatever plans you have with it, you don't really want to go through with them. You're not that kind of bird... remember?

[nomen_est_numen]

[Still, he doesn't move. His breathing grows harsh and he suddenly whirls, hurling the knife so hard that it ends up buried halfway up its own length in the wall.]

D'you honestly think that my intentions are that shallow, that I'm simply 'chasing tails?'

[trustycrowbar]

[Another sharp hiss as he moves to throw the knife, and then the breath is released as he moves slowly from the table he'd been backed up against, moving to his side. He doesn't let himself look away just yet.]

Of course not! Hell, you're anything BUT shallow. Don't see what the big deal is with her tails either. But she's not going to be too happy with you if she comes in here and sees you with a knife to someone's throat... mine or anyone else's.

[nomen_est_numen]

[Shen's gaze follows him and, in fact, nearly skewers him. It may become evident as he's making his way around Shen that he's actually circling him. This makes Shen's crest bristle.]

Then why say it? What are you driving at? You have a better chance because you're younger than I am?

[trustycrowbar]

[Oh goddammit. He rolls his eyes, and shrugs.]

She's hundreds of years old, Shen! What the hell does that even matter? Hypothetically we've got the SAME chances... hypothetically! [Still shuffling, circling.]

What I said was that she made YOU feel young! When's the last time you sang about plums and peaches and crap? Of course you'd want to hold onto that!

[He's not helping his case much, is he?]

[nomen_est_numen]

[His case would have been much more willingly heard if he'd stayed in one place. As it is, the shuffly circling footwork and the eye contact causes any avian to construe anything said at that point as a threat. As Gordon continues to circle, Shen gets angrier until he finally snaps his tail outward, hisses, and leaps, clearly intending to beat Gordon into the floor with his bare wings.]

[trustycrowbar]

GAHH--

[He doesn't expect this. He's bowled over in an angry cloud of white feathers, and the impact causes lighter equipment to shudder on nearby tables.]

[Being as Shen is, too angry to use knives, at least the brawl won't be lethal. But all the disoriented flapping and punches leave him with little to fight back with.]

Gh--SHEN! Gettaholdayoursel-AOW! Rrgh, you feathery bastard!

[nomen_est_numen]

[The brawl devolves into a cartoony mass of flailing limbs and puffs of feathers, tangled cords and splattered chemicals, yelps and squawks and crashes.]

[Ridiculously so.]

[very_model_of]

[At this point a heavy electric shock hit the mass of human and bird, stunning them both in a very painful manner.

Mordin was standing up from his seat across the lab, his omni-tool glowing and pointed in their general direction.]

Trying to concentrate. If masculine dominance squabbles unavoidable, take them outside. Away from sensitive equipment, and people working.

[trustycrowbar]

[Gordon makes a sound that comes out of repeating the last five letters of the alphabet over and over again, and uses the last few neurons that weren't short-circuited to bodily hurl Shen away from him with a last scattering of feathers. Then he just... lies there for a moment. Scratched, bruised, clothes torn, missing his glasses, still twitching from electric shock, confused and...]

"Oh damn. That's five on the bird and ten on Freeman, and nothing on a tie. All right, pool it all, we'll see if there's a round two..."

[Profoundly humiliated.]

[nomen_est_numen]

[Likewise, Shen is bruised and singed and twitching and just lies there quietly where he was thrown. He'll just take this moment to get his breath back, shall he?]

[very_model_of]

[They seem to be quiet now, so Mordin's going back to work, humming quietly to himself.]

[trustycrowbar]

[One thing can be said about that shock tool... it erased any notion of retaliation in his mind. After a little while longer her sits up and gropes for his glasses, plastering them clumsily back on his face and getting to his feet. Trying to somehow trawl up some of the dignity lost to the depths of ego, miscommunication and instinct. Tugging his torn labcoat staight. Dusting himself off.]

Thanks Mordin. I uh... Smithers, you watch the film growth for a while. I'm... I'm going to go get some air, and try to forget the last five minutes of my life ever happened.

[And he does.]

[nomen_est_numen]

[Shen, on the other hand, takes a little longer to wobble to his feet, and says nothing as he drags himself across the room to the spot he'd been sitting at when the whole fracas began. It's a cushiony little niche and he arranges himself in it to get comfortable and rest, still getting his breath back.]