goodideasareoverrated
*~~Vera Web~~*

Somewhere in Lynn's room, a name is coldly slashed out in the far side of a notebook.

—

Let it not be said Lynn does not come prepared. She picks at the corner of her outfit in idle consideration, as she dashed across the interior of the compound. Dark yellow coveralls, and boots, practical in all the way she is usually not. But then, it is not often Lynn speaks to custodians.

In each fork in the halls, Lynn looks deep to either side as she consults occasionally her memories of when she skimmed the layout of the place, but more frequently any maps posted on the wall she run into on the way. Slowly but surely, she wound closer and closer to where the offices were.

In search for- what else- a teacher, and her supposed Contact, *Oliver Rask*. This was later in the evening after classes, a time she purposefully picked. If ever there came a time she might offer help cleaning, she figured it would be now. 

Spotting and standing by the door, she eyed it for a second. Thoughtfully. Then she raised her hand and rasped her knuckles against the surface. Knock knock.
radikale
A crash sounds from the other side of the door, followed by a loud groan, followed by a shout to "Come in!".

The office is mostly tidy, almost eye-catchingly bare and blindingly clean, but the desk is a different story, covered in streaks of back motor oil and what looks to be dish soap, with some kind of contraption with smoke coming out of it standing in the middle of it and a toolbox shoved off to the side.

Oliver is sitting behind the desk on a stool, his usual (more comfortable) office chair shoved away from the desk.

— "Can I help you?"
goodideasareoverrated
Lynn pushes past the door and enters the room proper. She looks at the interior clinically, but only for a split second before she looks at Oliver.

"Sir Rask?" She intones, politely. She makes a show of looking at the mess on his desk. "Is now not a good time?"

"Either way, I insist I help clean the mess, even if I should come back another time."

Ah, also, I forgot to mention, but she's carrying a long, rectangular black case, slung over her back with string.
radikale
Oliver sighs loudly.

— "No," He says, "It's fine. This can wait." 

He flips a switch on the contraption. It doesn't seem to do much, but he seems satisfied anyway. He stands up, walks to the front of the desk, and puts his full focus on Lynn. His facial expression more than a little daunting, but he's not outwardly mean. 

— "I guess you can help clean, if that's really what you want to be doing. Do you know *How* To clean or do you need me to teach you?"
goodideasareoverrated
Lynn maintains an inoffensively flat expression as she returns the look. "Want? I have other ideas of fun... But it would be *Remiss* Of me to leave a mess. It's fine, really."

A pause. "A little. But motor oil stains, specifically, no." She admits. "Oh, but whatever I'll learn, I'll remember for the future. A productive investment, yes? Two hands can't be worse than one..."

She politely mimes stepping around Oliver, as if to implicitly ask permission to do so so she might take a closer look at the desk. "Oh, and if you don't mind I ask, this device is...?" She asks with a bit of mild curiosity.
radikale
— "That device," Oliver responds flatly, "Is dangerous enough that I would suggest you don't poke it."

He walks around the desk, grabs the device and shelves it under there. It's not entirely clear from the other side of the desk, but it sounds like he locks it in.

— "You're not cleaning up in here either. I don't let anyone else clean up after my messes. No offense."

He wipes the oil off with what looks like a dirty rag. Somehow, it leaves him completely spotless. 

— "Is there anything else? Unless you got reassigned to Daisy sometime in the last few months, I imagine I'm still your Contact. Is everything going well?"
goodideasareoverrated
"Then I won't." She holds her hands up placatingly.

She watches, as he puts away the device and wipes the oil off. She observes, too, how he stays oddly spotless. But she leaves the topic behind for now.

"Oh, yes, you still are, sir Rusk." She confirms with a nod. "In fact, I hoped to speak to you about the future of my... Power, as this institute calls it?"

There was obvious distaste behind the term, but she doesn't let it derail her.

"I admit, I am still surprised to learn an entire society of parahumans existed this entire time. Truly, I am fortunate to have the chance to meet so many unique people."

She gingerly reaches behind her and lifts the case into her hands. Her eyes narrow a bit as she looks down at it. "The perfect environment for a sword such as mine to 'develop', no?"

A pause. "Hmm, how should I put it..." Lynn seemed troubled for a second. "Please consider this question as part of consultation for my power, or maybe small talk. Whichever you'd prefer."

"Sir Oliver Rask, if you don't mind I ask... I am curious, what is your reason for continuing to work for Newton's Cradle?" She asks, and then another pause as she considers. "Ah, but do tell me if I step out of line with any of my questions." She adds at the end.
radikale
— "I do mind you asking," Oliver responds bluntly.

He sits back down on his stool and takes out a paper from beneath the desk. 

— "I can try to help with your powers, though. I have your file here. What's the issue?"