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test drive meme

Test Drive Meme The Pan Pacific Defense Corps was usually offered any of a variety of local buildings to set up their testing centers. For reasons of access and availability, most testing clinics were set up in central areas for any given community. Those of the PPDC staff on hand vary in their personal intensity. Some of the men and women wearing Strike Group insignia seemed overly serious, to the point of frowning with intensity at some of the youngest checking in for this testing round. Those from the K-Science division are tight with nervous energy as they direct prospective cadets through various activities. Everything was meant to measure potential, looking for that spark that meant they had somebody who was Drift Compatible. The majority of people were turned away after the first series of seemingly random tests, officials looking in eyes, placing odd looking contraptions over heads, asking for people to play a series of short games, one even in a virtual reality set-up.

	( SCENARIO ONE ) If you are still here now, you've made it past the first cut. You'll be sat down in a room with the rest who have made it this far, then systematically led into smaller interview rooms as pairs. If you came with a partner, they're your first interview candidate. If you came on your own, all your interviews are random assignment. All who have been asked to stay are required to sit through and conduct a series of short peer to peer interviews. The questions are straightforward. What is your least favorite color? Which tool in a standard toolbox is most useful to you? What time of day do you accomplish the most? Do you have children? What do you believe the Drift is like? Peer to peer interviews last for half an hour to an hour, and each person is asked to participate in at least three peer-to-peer interviews. There is no punishment for going off script. There is a one-way mirror looking into each interview area, and one door leading into the room with a small panel of glass located on the door. There is a clock on the wall in each room. The time they report is odd, when examined. These are not digital clocks, but timers, counting up time since the last Kaiju attack.

	( SCENARIO TWO ) Congratulations! You have been judged Drift Compatible, and sent home to pack after giving a definite yes to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. The next thing you face down is the flight into Santiago, Chile, and the subsequent drive in to Valparaíso's Shatterdome. You and the rest of the crowd of soon to be PPDC Ranger Cadets have been gathered together to wait for the old bus scheduled to take you to the Shatterdome. While waiting in the open air, those from any Northern Hemisphere countries may find the summer weather strange. Today's high is going to be in the upper 80's, and there's not a cloud to be seen that's not clinging to the distant mountains. Welcome to Chile. When the bus arrives, it's another hour ride out toward the coastline to get to the Shatterdome. Even better? The bus Air Conditioner is broken. Safe travels, Cadets!

Please set up your own scenarios as you like. The above two scenarios are suggestions. Anything goes!

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"Brown." It was really the only answer he could think of, since he really didn't have much against any particular color. He usually dressed in black and white when left to his own devices, but most colors in moderation were fine. Brown, though, was just...brown. "I don't really have a good reason, I just prefer colors that are, I don't know, clearer, I guess."

It's not his strongest answer and he knows it. He's far more confident in the rest of them. For example, he's thought quite a bit on this next one. It seems like a far better way to judge someone's character than a question about colors, anyway.

"Which tool in a standard toolbox is most useful to you?"

[He very heavily considers telling Luke to get lost so he can have some peace, but... honestly, he was afraid the kid would listen to him and scamper off in that kicked dogged way of his. Yuri didn't like feeling like a bully.

But he also didn't like pampering spoiled rich kids.]

If they catch you wandering around out here, you'll get in trouble. Why aren't you in the cantina? Food not up to your standards?

You like it?

[he couldn't help it. he actually hadn't come out to escape the food. he'd eaten it. But he couldn't imagine anyone enjoying enjoying it]

I like having three solid meals a day.

[Yuri was beginning to think that Luke couldn't go three feet without putting his foot in his mouth--truly the product of a life time of being sheltered.

He levered Luke with an unimpressed look, folding his arms in front of him.]

Unless you're planning on getting in there and cooking for yourself, don't complain.

No. Probably not.

[He let the line of conversation drop for now, figuring she'd be happier just to be left in peace to read. And he was here for the same thing, anyway. He'd only been between academies for a month, but settling back into the whole routine was grating.

They didn't have much more time to kill before they had to walk back. Might as well get the most of it.]

[He flusters a bit]

I didn't!! You brought it up.

[Despite the basic attempt to defend himself, he still kind of sounds like a kicked puppy]

Mouth opens, breath draws in - she continues, races past - mouth snaps closed, hand raises, pointer finger held up toward the ceiling as a professor about to lecture - she continues, what's my childhood nickname? - his hand wavers, aborts, reappears, eyes beginning to flit from clock to girl, from precise, clever time management to precise, clever body management.

Well. An exaggeration, that.

That's a rude way to talk about your mother.

"I've no debt simply because I've no connections; an intellectual tramp, a snob might say, despite looking remarkably terrible with a beard. Favorite color? Blue, set not too dark nor too light. Never did fancy turtles. I once ate nothing but celery for three days, a habit broken only because my daughter convinced me my feet would turn purple."

The earlier, more flustered expressions began and ended in silence.

Rattled quick as a can sent spinning down a street-- but, really, it didn't say much about him at all that he rose to the challenge of a biting girl, eyes at last focusing front and center, attention piqued in a keen, if not fragile, way. Not quite question-for-question, titling only one question, and had the mention of a daughter been an intentional retort (otherwise unexpressed) to the preying implication?

With the way he didn't seem to remember his words once they were out of his mouth, no. It couldn't have been.

"That is to say: I'm excessively stubborn, much like you, and I think drift would be positively awful, though not as awful as going it alone, which is... half like you."

-- Except, there, he grasped what he spoke, what should have been a barb turned only-a-teensy-tinsy-bit-questioning statement.

[Scenario 1]

Some part of Guy Cecil is surprised he's still here. A larger part is surprised at how calm he feels now that he finds himself, in fact, still here.

He knows, logically, that he's about to undergo a search for someone to share all his secrets, thoughts and feelings. That alone should have him storming right back to Telluride after years of miserably doing his best to shutter every damn category. Yet here he was, on the other side of the world, enrolling after his idiotic best friend had told him he was running away to atone in a Jaeger, and then actually followed through with it. After mere days in a strangely quiet house, like some kind of idiot who doesn't feel the need to spend any time or deep thought on life decisions, Guy followed him. Without so much as a packed bag.

How long had he been expected to come here? How long had he absolutely not wanted to do this? And that was what it took?

He smiles to himself, wry. He looks for all the world relaxed and approachable in a room full of nerves, though kindness doesn't reach his eyes. Hearing his name called helps even more. He wasn't used to it yet, and it felt like he was assuming a new identity entirely - why not make it one that could make a change in the world? He'd find someone who worked. It wasn't as if he was the only one who would have rubble and blood in the Drift, anyway.

"Nice to meet you," he says, finally focusing on his interview partner.

Edited 2014-02-02 04:28 (UTC)

"...Red," Guy answers after a moment of owlish surprise. He smiles a bit at the steadfast, resolute certainty of her answer. Who bothered giving any thought to their least favorite color? But this woman answered with total certainty. Though his posture looks relaxed, he's quite focused on her, eyes trained on her as if he's suspicious... or nervous.

"I thought orange went well with blue. Opposites, right?" he follows up with. His voice is easygoing enough, at least.

"Guy Cecil," he answers, the name still new and a little thrilling when he gives it. Not that it shows on his face - he looks relaxed, though to anyone good at sizing up body language his nerves are like coiled wire, carefully wrapped. His easygoing smile drops off, however, when Andrea offers her hand - the brief show of anxiety is quickly covered with an apologetic smile, putting his hand up in polite refusal.

"I have a cold - I don't want to make you sick," he explains. "It's nice to meet you, Andy."

It's a lie - the cold, at least. He's not sure if he'd be able to Drift with a girl, not with his... problem, though screening had decided it was possible so long as his anxiety was limited to physical proximity. He had no intention of lying to potential partners about it, but this woman obviously wasn't that. But he had wanted to meet her, honestly. He was intensely curious about what she was like, and he was certain he'd learn something from this - maybe even get a single bearing, if not all of them.

Edited (sry for edits) 2014-02-02 04:45 (UTC)

When Yuri'd been told that he was being transferred to Valparaiso, he hadn't thought it was much of a punishment at the time. Some place that wasn't twenty damn degrees at best most of the time sounded like a great idea to him. But his first interview had been that damned fon Fabre kid, and after that, one of Hyrda Corinthian's pilots. The last six months in Alaska he'd been doing his best to forget his hometown, throwing himself into the physical training and the meditation, striving so that when the time came, he could do the impossible--bring nothing into the Drift.

It was a long shot, but it wasn't like he had much to lose if he failed.

He had been more confident in Alaska, but he was already dreading the prospect of being faced with the fon Fabre heir day in a day out. The kid reminded him too much of his devastated home, of the man who'd caused that devastation... The man he'd killed. He'd managed a flip attitude through that interview and the one after, but he found himself oddly tired now that he was one interview away from getting out of these sterile rooms.

Get it together, he told himself. Maybe he'd try meditating after, get a head start on getting his mind straight.

He had planned to just breeze through this last interview with a minimum of effort but as the other person sat--he blinked, tensing up into a sitting position from his easy sprawl.

Something about this guy--

"Guy...?" his mouth said, miles ahead of his brain.

Guy goes very still, visibly double-taking. He straightens up, his face completely blank, owlish and staring. Whatever had him so preoccupied with his own train of thought comes to a screeching, tumbling halt.

"Yuri?" It couldn't be. He hadn't seen him in five years, and that was a life ago. They were in Chile. What the hell?

"You're blond," he blurted out.

What the hell was he doing? He had an expression to match Guy's, wide-eyed and unbelieving. He should say something else--there was too much to say, or maybe there wasn't anything... it had been five years. It seemed like such a small amount of time, but they'd been kids back then. Another life, no kidding. He'd been a different person... The shrinks would probably go nuts over how similarly their thoughts were just then.

What the hell could he say to him?

"Nice dye job," he said, snatching the thought at random and then having to bite his own lip on slightly hysteric grin, listening to himself. Nice dye job. Great, neutral topic, that.

I didn't expect you to actually say something that stupid.

[He threads a hand through his lose hair, sighing.

"My name is Franziska von Karma." And she didn't want to be called out on her lack of mechanical knowledge but she agrees with that assessment. Plus the fact that you can hammer a nail in with the butt of screwdriver but can't screw in a screw using a hammer. She would share that information with him but she's certain that he's a complete (and self-admitted) failure who doesn't deserve the extra smalltalk. He can't even remember her name!

"And you're wrong, Chienpo Kensui," she crosses her arms on her chest, casting one derisive glance at the coffee stains on his shirt. "I'm more productive at night. There isn't enough hours in the day to accomplish what must be done." Because when you're the only person of average intellect in a family of geniuses, a lot has to be done in order to barely catch up. Her bed is a pristine not only because she's stuck in her personal method of discipline but also because she rarely sleeps in it.

If you've never really thought about it, then think about it now. [ Because she tried to make sense of what the girl was talking about and decides that it's all excuses and poppycock. ] I don't have all day to listen to you contemplate your navel.

"I think those are a little too big to be called 'kits'," he mused. "Definitely wouldn't ask one of guys to tighten the sink faucet." They did tend to carry around a lot of tool that looked like they'd hurt to be hit with, or have one 'accidentally' dropped on your foot.

He gave his next answer with the same immediacy as before. "Nah. I'm used to waking up early." Even before the academy, he'd liked running in the mornings.

The questions were starting to get a little boring; time for something new. "Are you here to participate in the program, too? To see if you can Drift with another person?"

"I--"

There's a moment where he stumbles over the reply, and a noise bubbles out of his throat that sounds so unrecognizable to him that he almost doesn't realize it's him at first: a confused, startled laugh. When was the last time he laughed? This wasn't even funny!

"Didn't you hear? We could get famous." He can't take his eyes off him - he can't believe his eyes. "The circus would be in town if I was recognized too easily." Thanks for ruining the effect. He leaves the sarcastic follow-up to that unspoken, rubbing his hand over his mouth in disbelief. From the feel of it, he was smiling too.

"You're a little far from home?"

( She gave him another minute, to see if he's going to add or follow up to that statement. When he didn't, Leila finally settled down on the floor to continue reading. Or at least, attempt to continue reading. She didn't entirely understand what she's doing there, especially since he seemed to be the type who preferred to be alone.

For a moment, she paused and looked up at him — only for her to shake her head and look back down on the page she's reading. She was tempted to comment on something but then again, she'd rather not, knowing it would spark up another conversation. )

"I was in Alaska a month ago!" he was flat-out grinning now, laughing with stunned disbelief. "They kicked me out--'reassigned me' because of my sterling personality; they thought I was so friendly I'd ace this multiple Drift partners thing."

He was practically leaning forward in his seat, talking completely unguarded. "Your secret's safe with me. I didn't think--" I'd ever see you go near a Jaeger. He managed to catch himself just in time, though with his face an open book at the moment, Guy can probably see him manually switching tracks. "I'd see you..."

Edited 2014-02-02 06:59 (UTC)

[Is about to argue back but just, bites his tongue on it, fairly obviously, turning his eyes away, and then shortly thereafter the rest of his body.]

Sorry for bothering you.

There's nothing of the shaded, flat smile Guy was wearing before. He's wide open, so it's easy to see him catch what Yuri just didn't say, and react to it-- with a vulnerable, bitter, self-deprecating look on his face, his lips twisted to half-smiling. "I didn't think I'd ever be here," he admits - it's not like the people watching quite understand what's behind that.

"That Alaska scenario sounds like exactly what I'd think, though," he rolls along, more cheerful this time - it's not talking about that, but it isn't a change in topic either, really - he just has to react. Kicked out! Yuri Lowell! "You're as popular as ever. How could you possibly not get along with everyone?"

It's somewhat before all that, when Guy is on his way into the waiting room and Luke is on his way out, that they pass each other in the hall.

For Luke, it was so unexpected he almost doesn't notice. He was still feeling a bit on edge from how the interviews went. Convinced he'd irrevocably ruined his chances even after Andrea's assurances there were no wrong answers. And, of course, he didn't look up much anyway. He was always pretty guarded when out in public. Just slightly tense, ready to duck away from whoever recognized him next.

So he's almost past Guy by before he recognizes him. Taller, blond hair. The familiar presense that had been around for much of his life. Finding it here completely startles him out of his mental retreat. "--Guy??"

Guy, for his part, has the advantage of Luke's blazing red hair being an uncommon color to recognize him immediately... as unexpected as it is to find him so quickly in this massive compound. He still startles.

It was all he thought about for days, but no matter how much time he had to figure out how to explain himself, he has no idea what to say. He's not really prepared for the twist in his gut, and he can't translate why he feels that at all, or what it's for. It's embarrassing. So he just talks.

"Yo," he says, a small smile on his face. "I was wondering when we'd run into each other. That wasn't long at all."

This is almost too much, Guy's face is just too obvious and Yuri almost pushes himself up out of his seat to do something--but the not quite double-speak snaps him back to where they are. There's a palpable jolt through his body as he catches himself, makes himself relax back into his seat. There isn't anything he can say to that that he wants on public display.

"It's the temperature up there; makes people awful cranky." His tone is more or less back to normal, flip and insouciant, but his eyes are focused wholly on Guy, looking him over, seeing if he looks like's he's been doing well, if he's healthy... And he' not making an effort to hide it in the slightest, even if he could scrape together some semblance of unconcern. Which he can't.

Edited 2014-02-02 07:25 (UTC)

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