friendsfordinner | ic contact for tlv

"Minor mending," he supplies, mouth curving in a quick, shy smile.

"Which is a kind of very applied math, actually. Want to see?"

Hickey nods.

"Definitely," he says, without hesitation.

Haha! He grabs a piece of chalk from the board, one long enough that he can easily snap it in half, then spreads it carefully out on the table in front of them.

"Okay, so first thing to do is a quick mathematical calculation of the number of surfaces we've got here- two faces on this chip, two on this one, around, around both cylinders plus two ends each makes-?"

First math question, Hickey; how desperate is the situation, can you do simple addition at speed?

"You said two plus two plus two?" Hickey says, more to clarify the numbers that Quentin was saying instead of anything else. "That's six. But if we're just talking about one of the chalks, that'd be three. Two ends, one cylinder part."

And Hickey rolls the chalk on the table itself, rolling it via the long cylindrical end, just to make sure Quentin knows what he's talking about.

"And if we make it all together- both chalk haves, both chips, that's four groups of two and two groups of one."

Rearranging them on the table between them, in an approximate line of where the whole chalk once was.

"Make it- five multiplied by two, five times two?"

Did they get to multiplication tables in those schooldays of his?

Easy multiplication, that he can do. It's when things get into more digits that Hickey isn't so hot on the numbers.

"Ten," he points out, with a smug little smile. That one's easy, it's two groups of five. That's ten. "I think I've got the hang of this."

"Okay. Perfect. Now here is where it gets kind of fun. Do you know what different bases are, when it comes to numbers? Magic for repairs is mostly done octally- base eight, for reasons that are too complicated to get into. Here-"

Sliding back to the chalkboard, getting a new piece of chalk, then writing out in one column;

"So normally we count like this, 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10. In base eight, you throw out the numbers eight and nine, so it looks like this; 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0o10 0o11 0o12. So the number we're working with is ten, which would be-"

Underlining 0o12 with the chalk.

"-still with me?"

And this is the point where Hickey gets a bit lost. Why'd you throw out the numbers eight and nine to begin with? That doesn't make any sense. So what, if you added 5 and 5 you'd get...0o12?

What the fuck.

Still, Hickey can be a good actor if he wishes. He gives Quentin a nod, trying his hardest to seem like he understands what's going on.

"I think I've got it."

He does not have it.

"Now each of these digits translates to a specific hand position. Here."

Coming back to the table, raising his right hand, showing him a bone-cracking series of movements, 0 through 7, some of them distinguishable from each other only by the barest movement of thumb or the faintest angle to the palm, each one learned with precision.

"And we're working at a 12, so that's a one on the left hand, a two on the right, put some focus into it- explain mentally to the chalk wouldn't it be nice if it were a whole piece of chalk like it was meant to be, and-"

And as Quentin's clever, hands move, fast. They're long, unsubtly muscular, once you start looking close- magicians don't have pianist hands, they have rock climber hands. His hands fly into their positions, he puts his heart into the healing, and when he reaches down and reassembles the chalk as if to glue it back into place, it listens to him and simply stays that way.

"There you go. Those are the basics."

Try as he may to hide his confusion, it's pretty obvious that Hickey doesn't really get it. He gets that there's magic. He gets that whatever Quentin did it involved math and hand motions and doing math with his hand motions. But there's just something in the middle that he's not understanding.

And that's pissing him off more than he wants to admit.

"Tell me how a spell works," he says, still desperately wanting to at least do it right. "Let me try one."

"That's kind of the thing. We never really know how it works."

He says, holding up the intact piece of chalk, offering it to him.

"That's the difference between magic and science. With science, you can learn how. With magic, you can peel back the first layer- like we just did together 'this spell works because I had ten surfaces of broken chalk, which translates to twelve in base eight, so I used hand positions one and two,' but the why, the how, it's just... magic."

Which is a half truth at best. He should leave it there, but he's Quentin, so he can't.

"There are theoreticians who go deeper than that. Say- base eight because in certain traditions of numerology, the number eight is associated with wholeness. Why? Because collective human belief sometimes is powerful enough that tradition and faith can overcome physics. Why? Because- and on about that level of because, and the one below it, things start to get a little dangerous. You- you've lived through some shit. You know how there are things that once you know them, they change you?"

At this point, the confusion is pretty visible on Hickey's fave. One, what the hell is numerology. Two, the more Quentin explains this, the more Hickey just does not understand. Peeling back the first layer, collective human belief, there's still a lot he's a bit confused about.

Though Quentin's question makes sense. He understands that. Hickey nods, before answering. "I saw a god up in the Arctic. How the hell d'you expect someone to go back to England when they see something like that?"

"I've seen it too."

He agrees; in memories of Harry's, many floods ago, now.

"That's just one example- but yeah, even if the experience hadn't killed you, at a baseline it changes you. That's why we don't stare too hard into that abyss. It stares back, and eventually that gets fatal."

"It only gets fatal if you let it," Hickey says, with a dismissive little shake of his head. "For some of us, that's simply an opportunity."

Some of us like him.

"Uh- then how did you end up here?"

He says, not sure he isn't misunderstanding something. This is usually death for inmates, right?

That bear ate him. But Hickey doesn't answer that question. Instead, Quentin gets a first hand look that hey, this man is still in a little bit of denial about how things went and still has a hint of delusion around him.

"Everybody thought that the bear, the tuunbaq was just a bear. They treated it like an actual bear when it really wasn't. And the thing is, that girl, that Eskie, Lady Silence, she knew it wasn't a bear. She knew what to do in order to to make it so she got a slice of that godhood as well. Like I said, it was simply an opportunity."

That ended with him getting eaten.

"Right, but like, logistically, you're dead. Currently."

Says Quentin, who just isn't emotionally intuitive enough to differentiate between a logic puzzle he should obviously solve right now and an emotional blind spot to do with a river in Egypt.

"Like- empirically speaking, you have shuffled off the mortal coil."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna graduate, aren't I. And if I graduate, I can ask the Admiral for a second chance at tuunbaq as a reward for pushing some other inmate through all this."

It is very obvious that Hickey has not yet realized there's a pretty good chance he won't graduate because he'd ask the Admiral for a second chance at bear godhood.

"Oh, cool, you're set on graduating? A lot of people come in all 'fuck that, you can't make me.'"

So it's good that he's made a good first step in that direction.

"Course I'm graduating," Hickey shrugs. "I'll say whatever the Admiral wants to hear if it means I get a second chance."

"It was tough. Graduating- for me. Took my a year and a half- two?"

He guesses, with a twitch of a smile.

"But keep your nose to the grindstone and you'll for sure get there."

"I can wait a few years," Hickey says, with a little nod. "I've waited for longer before."

"Well, I'm really crossing my fingers for you."

Sincerely.

"I know it's rough here sometimes- but if there's ever anything I can do to help-"

At least in Hickey's mind, he believes Quentin's just saying that. After all, it's not like the man actually cares about him. He's saying it because that's what wardens do.

"If there's anything you can do, you'll be the first to know."

"Good, thank you- and if you want to hang out and be bears again some time, just hit me up. I had fun."

He is, funnily enough, being quite genuine- considering the other shoe that's likely soon to drop.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: period typical racism

Re: cw: period typical racism

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject