Jenga!

[c_macaulay]

Bored to tears, Camilla had gone rummaging in the gift shop to find a game to play. She'd played so much solitaire she was beginning to develop an irrational dislike of some of the face cards. It was there that Mr. Wednesday found her again

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[cuppa_mecha]

Joe had since improved his wardrobe from the last time Camilla and him had met as well as the gift shop he'd raided. Out of plastic-like coats as well as flip flops, Bermuda shorts, and Australian safari hats; he looked nearly normal in his current garb if not for that stubbornly kept ken-molded hair.

Instead, he wore a leather coat with a blue shirt and, of all things, washed out jeans. It certainly wasn't customary for Joe. But, having found the proper clothing store, experimenting with look had become something of a past time over the past couple of weeks.

It was pleasurable to see Camilla again so long after their stint in the wash room.

"Camilla!" he called out in a tone that could be very well pinned as joyous. Yes, Joe had identified the woman with great importance and couldn't wonder that the feeling might not be as mutual as he presumed.

"Why are you playing with blocks of wood?" Joe asked, noticing the activity.

[c_macaulay]

Intent on the Jenga tower, Camilla finished her turn, then waved. "Hi, you! This is a game. It's called Jenga. It's ... simplistic," she said.

"Now, Camilla, we shouldn't underestimate Jenga. Tournaments of Jenga are held all over the world. It's a game of precision and strategy," Wednesday remonstrated, a twinkle in his eye. "And who might this young man be?" Machine, Wednesday could tell off the bat, and it gave him a very well-concealed case of the heebie-jeebies, reminding him of the robotic things you could sometimes see Backstage.

"This is Joe," Camilla said. She omitted the preface gigolo. To her that was part of Joe's previous life as a slave, and she assumed he'd want to leave it behind now he was free. "Joe, this is Mister Wednesday."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Wednesday smoothly. "Would you care to give Jenga a try, then, Joe?"

[cuppa_mecha]

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wednesday. I like that day. Humans refer to that day as hump day. Very witty. They get a chortle out of it, as I remember. And chortling for a day known for humping is very good for business, wouldn't you say?" Joe said, conversationally.

And then, "I'll give it a go. What's the object of this game, Jenga? It's very retro, isn't it? No buttons. Do you move the blocks yourself?"

He said this all in his customary quick chatter. Very clipped. Very chipper.

He'd sat down, closer to Camilla than Mr. Wednesday. He gave her a smirk of a smile before returning his attention back to the tower.

[callmewednesday]

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. Was the machine glitching? "I won't take offense at that," he said, still smoothly. "I'm a plain-speaking man," which was something of a misleading remark at best, "and customs are different where I'm from. As is our estimation of wit. However, let's have some consideration for the lady's presence, shall we?"

Camilla, a bit alarmed, fiddled with a Jenga block. "Not all humans are the same, Joe," she said. It was as much a message to Wednesday as to the robot. You can't expect him to know these things. "Humans where you're from were probably cruder in their speech around you, because they wouldn't have seen you as an equal and therefore wouldn't have felt a need to regulate their speech. The same way people wouldn't scruple to watch their language around animals

[c_macaulay]

"The first bit's from Pinocchio, yes. But I know that poem," Camilla objected. "It's got nothing to do with the Blue Fairy, or with turning dolls into humans. It's quite the opposite -- it's by Yeats, it's a Celtic thing, and the gist of it is that they're trying to get a human to join the fairies. To join the fairy world. And those last two lines you said, 'The quest will be perilous / Yet the reward is beyond price', those aren't part of the poem at all."

Wednesday shook his head. "You could be talking about any number of wood nymphs, and none of them have a power like you've described. More like than not it's a ruse to lure the subject into drowning. Water spirits feed on that kind of thing." The comment lacked any judgement, either against the nymph or its prey; utterly neutral, matter-of-fact, this is the way the world is and has always been.

[cuppa_mecha]

Straddled by two intellectuals, both with their different specialties, Joe was a tad overwhelmed by their contrasting answers. On one hand, Camilla was disputing any validity in Dr. Know (a program Joe had grown to trust over the years) and on the other Wednesday had prescribed a perfectly dismal fate for David...except

[callmewednesday]

"A boy who can't drown won't be any use to a nymph, wood or water, or to any rusalka. She'll let him go. Might have to drive him off, if what you say is so. Her trap won't work with prey already in it and refusing to leave." Cold comfort seemed a specialty of Wednesday's

[cuppa_mecha]

Joe was starting to doubt Wednesday's suspicions on what David could have found. It occurred to him that perhaps someone could be too knowledgeable and even the most wise of people could be at a disadvantage when met with another universe with differing rules.

"Do you think," Joe replied with a softness rivaling hers, "that this...move past his programming would have been possible? Do you think he would have given up his primary design to unconditional love for self-preservation?"

Joe gave her a hopeful look, as if Camilla had the power to look through Joe's blue/green eyes and into the ocean to David to find out if he had survived or not. It was, perhaps, the most purely independent question Joe had asked. Ever.

[drcuddy]

Jenga? Oh, why not. Cuddy hadn't played the game in years, but it couldn't be too horrible of an idea. She remembered being younger, the way the blocks teetered precariously before toppling into a loud, quick fall. No one had ever been scared of the commotion, they always just laughed.

"I think she's beating you," Cuddy said to Camilla, tilting her head to indicate Wednesday. Her smile was warm. If Cuddy had been playing, chances were she'd be beaten, too.

[c_macaulay]

Camilla looked up to the newcomer. "Oh? You could be right. Mr. Wednesday is a gracious victor, at least."

"No more gracious than I am in defeat," Wednesday answered smoothly. In truth he'd never excelled at what you might call sportsmanship, but the real game at this table for him wasn't Jenga at all. He looked the part of a man used to playing high-stakes games, though, and a man who could afford heavy losses, in his Armani suit and his starch-white immaculate shirt (how did he manage to stay that dapper in a place with no dry-cleaning?) and the silver tie pin that, if you knew what was to be known, you'd see to be the shape of the World Tree.

"Would you like to play?" Camilla's smile was bright and sincere. "It's not the most challenging game in the world but it's not as though the airport offers much by way of diversion. And I'd love to talk with someone new. I'm Camilla Macaulay, and this is Wednesday, as I said."

[drcuddy]

There again, Cuddy was meeting new people. It wasn't something she minded at all, in fact here in this place she was having a better chance at socializing than she ever would have had in the hospital. And it wasn't that she minded either way. Work had always been the most important thing in her life. Now, the world had forced her to change a bit. Cuddy would have to adapt, and if adapting included Jenga...

"Sure." She moved over to join the game. "I'm Lisa Cuddy. I used to live in Princeton, New Jersey before ending up here."

[c_macaulay]

"Princeton? Were you affiliated with the university at all?" Camilla asked with polite interest.

Wednesday started to rebuild the tower so they could start the game afresh, and grinned, and said nothing as yet.