“Yeah, it is a code.” Darlene’s expression dropped to one of utmost seriousness, as though John had stumbled upon something that he had no purpose in knowing about. And, in a way, he sort of did. Not in the way where he’d completely uncovered their entire operation and plan to bring down the largest conglomerate in the states, but more along the lines of toeing on the edge of Elliot’s personal life that only a select few people actually got to know about. Obviously, her brother hadn’t wanted his new houseguest to know, so it wasn’t her place to go spilling the beans either. “It’s code for you’re a fucking idiot. This isn’t James Bond, nobody is speaking in code here.” She shook her head, leaning back in the chair she was seated in enough so that she could take a peek at the front door, as though by sheer force of will she could make Elliot appear and explain that this was all just a big joke. That the guy who was lounging on his couch was just some young techie kid that he worked with and not some random homeless teenage that he’d taken in ‘out of the kindness of his heart.’. Unfortunately, the door remained closed, half listening to the words that John was saying.
If he was going to play cocky smartass, then she could play right back. That might as well have been the subtitle to Darlene’s game. She had dealt with her fair share of men who could have easily been a thousand times more gratingly annoying than John was, this was practically fucking child’s play to her at this point. “Yeeeaahh,” She turned her attention back to the other, giving up on conjuring the ability to make her brother appear out of thin air for the moment and instead, settling on talking to the kid on the couch. At least he wasn’t half bad on the eyes… for a seventeen year old. “He’s not really big on touching, or being touched, or any real human interaction. You get used to it. That’s just Elliot."
The story that he gave her was … less than satisfying. It hardly answered any of her questions and only made more crop up in her head. John was puzzling, and the hacker in her always enjoyed a good puzzle, fitting the jumbled pieces together until they formed just picture that she wanted, or unlocked just the door that she had been hoping for. “Thanks for that.” The sincerity in her voice was lacking, but how flattered was she supposed to be by the half compliment? She didn’t go falling all over herself just because some homeless guy told her that she was hot, she never would have survived New York if that was the case.
“Yeah, that’s not really what I asked. Like, how’d you get to the city, were you born here? What happened to your parents, they kick you out? Are you some kind of delinquent or something? Burn down your middle school? Did you kill a man and throw his body in the Hudson?” It was a well thought out tactic disguised as chaos -- an overloaded server would crash and reboot when too many commands were executed all at the same time, Darlene had figured that out in the early stages of learning to code, and humans tended to work in the same manner. Overload them with too many absurd questions and most of them defaulted to setting the story straight. Crash and reboot.
no subject
If he was going to play cocky smartass, then she could play right back. That might as well have been the subtitle to Darlene’s game. She had dealt with her fair share of men who could have easily been a thousand times more gratingly annoying than John was, this was practically fucking child’s play to her at this point. “Yeeeaahh,” She turned her attention back to the other, giving up on conjuring the ability to make her brother appear out of thin air for the moment and instead, settling on talking to the kid on the couch. At least he wasn’t half bad on the eyes… for a seventeen year old. “He’s not really big on touching, or being touched, or any real human interaction. You get used to it. That’s just Elliot."
The story that he gave her was … less than satisfying. It hardly answered any of her questions and only made more crop up in her head. John was puzzling, and the hacker in her always enjoyed a good puzzle, fitting the jumbled pieces together until they formed just picture that she wanted, or unlocked just the door that she had been hoping for. “Thanks for that.” The sincerity in her voice was lacking, but how flattered was she supposed to be by the half compliment? She didn’t go falling all over herself just because some homeless guy told her that she was hot, she never would have survived New York if that was the case.
“Yeah, that’s not really what I asked. Like, how’d you get to the city, were you born here? What happened to your parents, they kick you out? Are you some kind of delinquent or something? Burn down your middle school? Did you kill a man and throw his body in the Hudson?” It was a well thought out tactic disguised as chaos -- an overloaded server would crash and reboot when too many commands were executed all at the same time, Darlene had figured that out in the early stages of learning to code, and humans tended to work in the same manner. Overload them with too many absurd questions and most of them defaulted to setting the story straight. Crash and reboot.