Summary:Where financial aid is sought, forms are filled out (SO MANY FORMS) and Peter finds out about Kori's job. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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He'd never visited this place out of costume. It felt a little strange. But Koriandr had texted him, asking for help on "a matter MOST serious." Of course, he would come. Kori was his friend. He had so few these days, and Kori seemed to be on the edge of becoming…someone greater.
And if his role in it was advisor, sounding board, or even spearchucker, fifth row, third from the right, well…it was his calling to serve.
He entered the building, then walked up to the security desk. "Peter Parker. I'm here to see Koriandr?"
It had taken a bit of work to get Peter past the front desk, and past the normal security, and then past the REAL security. The Baxter Building isn't autonomous, and it does require some measure of staff. With the legions of fans wanting to bother the Fantastic Four day-in and day-out, there's a pretty wide net for catching people trying to head upstairs.
Kori's name nets Peter a blank look, but it alerts the security systems. Word's passed up to the Titan's secret rooms, then back down to admit Peter to the elevator.
He's waved in and it zooms up to the higher floors, a few levels below the residences of the Four themselves. When it opens, Kori reaches into the elevator and grabs Peter by the shirtfront to haul him closer.
"I AM DOING THE FAFSAS AND I DO NOT KNOW IF SILKIE IS A DEPENDENT OR NOT!" she says, near hysterical.
Battle and death don't phase the Tamaranean woman, but it seems that Earth's bureaucracy might be the breaking of Koriand'r!
Riri was still pretty sure that she'd never get tired of flying. …But testing that a little more couldn't hurt. And testing her upgraded arc reactor (now with actual pure palladium instead of whatever was scavenged from catalytic converters) made a nice excuse. As would maybe dropping in to see the YA again. Especially since she didn't need to go through awkward security booths. "Transmit BB landing clearance." A green light on her HUD and a confirming beep indicate that she's not about to be shot down, and the teen descends to a fairly smooth landing. Not that power armor makes waiting for an elevator any less awkward… A few moments later, Riri's stepping out into the nexus, visor lifting to reveal her face. "Hello?"
He hears the elevator ding, looking up at the number. This is a BIG number.
Then the doors open and YOWWWW! Hands of steel grasp him and yank him out, and suddenly he is face to face with a slightly-discombobulated Tamaranean princess. "KORI! Hi, so nice to see you, I'm here to help you, so please relax?"
Kori more or less hauls Peter over to the dining room table and points accusingly at a stack of papers. They say Federal Application for Student Aid, and are piled up with a bunch of messy and incomplete application forms for ESU.
She's so agitated that she's flat floating along in front of Peter instead of walking. "I do not understand any of the paperwork and it is VERY confusing!" she tells him. "Please, will you help me? I wished to surprise you with being in school on the first day," she pouts. "But—" She's interrupted by Riri landing on the balcony, and beams a welcoming smile at the girl while waving her into the room. "But I am currently having 'the dumbs' and I wish to do the yeeting of the paperwork off the balcony!"
"Hey, Kori." Riri smiles a bit, getting a good distance away from the door before stepping out of her armor, hopefully in a spot that wouldn't block too much foot traffic. "Ah. Paperwork. I remember having to do a lot of that. A few people in my dorm had ritualistic burnings after graduation. …Although that might have also been homework binders." She shrugs, retrieving a soda from the fridge and leaning over to look at the documents. "Oh, by the way Pete, Tony Stark wants to meet you." Sssssip. "Well, he wants to meet Spider-Man, apparently he likes the webbing, but you do his tech, so you could EXPLAIN it to Spidey… Also he's not going to try to patent it, he makes it a matter of personal integrity to not need anyone else's tech." Tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, she leans a little closer to the paperwork. "…Have you talked to your SHIELD handler at all? If they're doing your cover story, they would know all the right names and stuff if that's what you're having issues with."
In a comedy world, Kori leans into Peter's frame and nudges him in the ribs with a conspiratorial wink for 'Peter' and 'Spider-Man'.
Peter took a deep breath, then spotted Riri. Well, then. It looks like Riri is part of the merry band of Avenger adventurers.
And THEN Riri drops the TONY STARK WANTS TO MEET YOU Bomb. and now he is gasping like a landed fish. It doesn't take long for his brain to reboot, and he takes a breath. "Oh…well…uhm…sure. I guess I could…do that." He looks at the papers, then his back straightens. "But first things first, Kori. Okay, I'll put these papers in order. I'll ask you questions, you give answers. If you have questions, raise your hand so I know. I or Miss Williams…uhm, Riri…will answer to the best of our ability. Okay." He squeezes Kori's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll get this squared away for you today, Kori. You have my word."
"Thank you, friend Peter," Kori tells Peter. She brushes her hair back from her face, the ever-moving mass finally settling behind her shoulders.
The paperwork's picked up and flopped into a more accessible corner of the table. "I have done much of it but there are too many questions I do not understand. And my resident status complicates things as well. I am not supposed to tell people I am an alien, but my visa /says/ I am an alien. I am scared I will put down the wrong thing. If you will examine my work and correct it for me I would be very grateful."
She looks from Riri to Peter. "Who is Tony Stark? Is he a friend?"
"There're multiple meanings to the word 'alien'. There's the one that means you don't come from earth, but the one on your visa means you're not from the us. …I think. I don't know exactly how SHIELD does things. But saying you're not form the US is fine." Riri takes another long sip of her soda, before looking up at Kori. "Tony Stark's my boss. And Iron Man. …But he's pretty friendly? I dunno. He seems to like helping teen heroes though. Decide what you're studying yet, or are you just going to do the basics first?"
Peter nods, sitting down in front of the papers. "Okay. Kori, I need you to get all the SHIELD stuff they gave you for your citizenship. Every scrap of paper they gave you." He fishes a pen out of his pocket. "Then we'll make everything match up."
Kori can tell Peter is In His Element. No stutter, no hesitation, no timidity. If there is a battlefield he is suited for that doesn't involve Spider-Man, it's this one.
"Oh! Yes, I have heard of the Man of Iron. Mr. Richards has mentioned him in passing." She frowns. "I am unsure if he likes him or hates him, but he does seem to respect him," she acknowledges.
The Tamaranean girl floats down the hall to the storage area and disappears into it. She emerges a few moments later with a large file folder box the size of a suitcase, floats it to the table, and drops it with a *THUMP*.
It's full of several /hundred/ pages of documentation and paperwork, much of it featuring letterhead from SHIELD, ICE, and the State Department.
None of it is organized, filed, or labelled in any meaningful structure. "They told me to keep everything, so I kept everything!" she says proudly.
"…Huh." Riri brings her smartwatch up to her mouth. "Note: Buy Kori a filing cabinet." The device beeps, and she gets to work starting to sort out the various new papers, at least by agency at first. "I thought they were trying to go green and cut /down/ on apper usage." She tilts her head to one side in puzzlement at a particularly thick packet.
Peter took a deep breath. Okay…it's a bigger mountain than he thought.
"Thanks, Riri. I am going to assume that there are papers for Kori's public persona. I'm going to need those." He put the FAFSA papers in order. "Okay, Kori, we're going to go through each entry one at a time. I'll explain what they mean if there is some confusion. And first…dependents are meant to be people you provide her, not pets…"
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
The paperwork's sorted, labelled, and properly indexed. The FAFSA is done and filled out and college application papers are sent off. Kori is seated on the table, brief jean shorts putting her legs on display, and balances a cup of tea on her fingers with elbows on her knees. Drinks and food were whipped up for Peter and Riri as well.
And of course, endless moral support from the perpetual motion cheerleader that IS Koriand'r.
"I believe we have completed all their requirements, friends. I will transfer this to the computers tomorrow and I will submit my applications!" she assures the others. "I am much the excited to start my studies of the generals," she says with a fingertip on the line that says 'Degree: General Studies'.
Riri's forehead hits the table with a thud, and she lets out a low moan. "Paperwork is the /worst/. I am /so/ glad that SI has everything on tablets." She fumbles around blindly for a moment until the snack bowl is located, bringing a handful back to shove into her mouth.
Peter is smiling wryly, but tiredly. It was a heckuva slog, but they made it through. "I think you should submit as soon as possible. I can scan them using the tablet in my backpack, and we can send them through that way." He grins. "And not 'general' as the title, but as the type. As in no specific area of study. There is an assessment test you can take online to determine what general classes you should take. I suggest you do that after we send in the documents."
"Yes, I know," Kori tells Peter with a sly grin. "I was 'the teasing' of you. It was a joke!"
Her eyes dance with the joke and she titters into her drink.
""I will be studying a general education course," she says. I had considered dance studies in the Department of Art, but I will have a minor degree in dance studies. It will improve my routine at the nightclub and help with Alison's career. And I will enjoy it," she explains. "And a General Studies degree will be very useful no matter where I pursue employment."
"And you can always take more classes later, if you want." Riri straightens up a little, a tired smile on her face. "I'm glad I could help. If you don't mess up all the papers again, I can get a filing cabinet and folders for you in a couple days. That way you'll know where things are again. …Assuming I'm not banned from the property or something, I might have to visit you on campus sometime."
Dang it, now it was Kori catching him flat-footed. He didn't have much difficulty picking out the words that provoke the strongest reaction.
"…routine at the nightclub?" Suddenly the fatigue has left him. "What's…the name of the nightclub?"
"The Obsidian Palace," Kori tells Peter with a brightened tone. "My friend Priscilla works there and got me the job. It pays quite well," she tells him. "Oh, and Mandy Sterling is working with me! Do you remember her from Science class? She says to tell you 'the hello' and hopes you are well," Kori tells Peter.
Seems the rumors about Miss Sterling's post-academic career might be true…
Despite her burnout from all the filing, Riri still manages to have enough energy to snicker at Pete's expression. Leaning back in her chair, she sips from her soda. This is her life now. Might as well enjoy the weird.
"The…Obsidian Palace?" Peter asked out loud.
In his ear, ALICE said helpfully, "A relatively exclusive gentleman's club…a 'strip club,' in other words."
Peter was looking a little paler, and his smile looked a little…hesitant. "You…dance in this club? Am I understanding you correctly?"
"Yes, that is correct," Kori confirms with that endless patience and continuing smile. "Oh! You should come to the club and see my routine!" she declares, giving Peter's wrist an impulsive squeeze. "It would be much the fun! I have invited all the friends from the tower here to visit and enjoy it. I worked very hard to make it entertaining."
As much as Riri's enjoying Pete being flustered, she should probably step in. "Kori, not everyone's… comfortable in clubs and stuff. I don't really do well around lots of people, and I just end up feeling awkward. That's why I was watching Dazzler's concert from a rooftop. Also, I'm not sure his girlfriend would approve." …Okay, /one/ dig.
Peter suddenly looked panicked. If she was dancing in that place, that meant she was…taking off her…
Oh God, he can't even say it. A royal princess from another world, now literally dancing her clothes off in some high-class strip joint.
"I…I can't. I can't do that, Kori. I…" He felt himself becoming queasy. "…where's the bathroom?"
"There is a common bathroom down the hall, on the right," Kori tells Peter promptly.
She looks at Riri. "Did he eat something he should not have? I have been very careful about ingredients that cause affliction in humans after the incident with the mayonnaise," she assures Riri. "Honestly though, your human biology baffles me. Old milk turns into cheese, and that is the fine, but old mayonnaise is not edible?" She sighs in exasperation.
"No, I think he's just kind of…" Riri waves her hand in the air, motioning to nothing in particular as she tries to come up with the right word. "Old fashioned? I dunno. I'm guessing that Tamaranean society has different standards than human ones." Nom. Delicious goldfish. "And the cheese thing is because it's actually preserved, but otherwise dairy products can start to get harmful bacteria, or taste unpleasant. And if things taste bad, they're usually bad for you? I don't know the details, though. I'm an engineer, not a doctor."
Peter BOLTS for the bathroom. He can feel it rising like a hot, sick wind, and he tries not to think about the idea of Kori, that warm smile he had known over one bare shoulder…
The bathroom bangs open as he hurtles through it, slamming it shut behind him, and then he has a crystal clear look of Kori, a warrior of the highest caliber, her bra dropping to the floor in a whisper of cloth…
…and there it goes, and he barely pulls the seat up before he is profoundly sick, one hand planted on the wall over the toilet as he bazooka-barfs into it. He's never been so nauseous in his life.
But then again, he's never before been invited by a powerful warrior to watch her take her clothes off for a bunch of leering men (and a few women, leave us not gild the lily here)…
"There are parallels between my people and your feline domesticus," Kori says to Riri with a nonchalant shrug. "In our evolutionary history, I mean. We're communal creatures. Creche living is normal for us, due to developmental delays between the egg-laying clutches and live births. And clothing in my culture is…" She wrinkles her nose. "It is considered an extreme form of decadence. The only people who wear clothing are those who are not warriors and who do not go out into our weather. As Princess, I lead my people into battle at the thickest point of fighting. If I wear clothing it implies that I believe I am 'too important' to join combat."
"Also, clothing is expensive and difficult to replace." She shrugs.
"…Ah. I'd guess that you guys can get away with that because you're really durable, but humans need protective clothing to not get sunburned and/or frozen. Interesting…" Riri ponders this, while taking another sip, before pausing abruptly mid-gulp. She coughs a few times, before looking up again, eyes wide. "Wait, did you say you're related to cats?"
Peter thinks he's got a handle on it, and then a memory comes up, of their first meeting.
"I am Koria- Kori Anderson, and I am very happy to make the meeting of you." Only this time it was in a sultry, beckoning voice, and oh God here we go again, and Peter is off to the races again.
After another minute, all he's got are dry heaves, and he is staggered against the bathroom wall, hovering over the open toilet. He's flushed twice already, and it looks like he's going to have to do it again…
"No, I said there are parallels," Kori corrects Riri, gently. "We are not related to felines. Our genetics are not remotely similar. But in terms of evolution and behaviour, there are similairites."
"But yes. Our planet has a surface temperature of one hundred and forty degrees Fahrenheit and coriolis-force storms drive up sandblasting winds. Wearing clothing under such conditions is an absurd effort. We do not suffer from exposure or radiation poisoning, and we can comfortably enjoy a wider range of temperatures than humans. Sarah and I have discussed it, and convenient terms are 'omnisexual' and 'polyamorous'. These are not accurate, but they are sufficient."
She looks at the bathroom with a worried frown, then back at Riri. "Do you think we should check on his wellbeing?"
"…Ouch. I can see why that'd be an issue." Riri winces at the weather description, eyes flicking back over to her armor. More reason to add that better environmental sensor package. As for the second half of the explanation… yeah, that makes sense given what she'd seen about Kori. "…We probably should." Snagging a can of ginger ale from the fridge, she knocks on the bathroom door. "Hey, Peter. You okay? I brought you some ginger ale, and I'll let you try on my helmet if you want. …I don't think you'd fit in the rest of the armor. It's not calibrated to deal with height differences."
Peter is silent for a moment, then there is the sound of retching, but it is a tired sound, as if there's nothing left to get rid of. Then he says in a distracted, rough voice, "…I think I just puked up a burger I ate in 2013…"
Kori leans against the doorframe, listening. "Friend Peter, I am sorry you are experiencing the gastronomical difficulties! Do we need to alert medical care?" she asks, sounding worried. "I do not know what to do if you are dying, and I am worried trauma care might be harmful."
"Do you have a gnargthax gland, and where is it located?" she demands, calling into the door.
"I'm going to open the door a couple inches." Assuming it's not locked, Riri does so, and passes through the ginger ale. "Kori, I'm pretty sure if there's no word for it in our language, we don't have it. And if he's conscious, we don't need to call anyone yet, I don't think."
Peter stops coughing, wiping his face with a tissue. "I…no. I don't have one of those. Give me a minute…I'll be all right. I just…tried to digest something that wasn't good for me." He begins taking slow, deep breaths.
"You don't have one?" Kori quizzes Riri, looking surprised. "It's quite common. It regulates the …" She trails off.
"I suppose you /wouldn't/ have one," she concedes. Kori makes a face at Ironheart. "Your species is so fragile! You are lucky you made it to sapience before a solar event annihilated your species."
"We have had a few big solar flares, but they usually were on a lot lower end of the EM spectrum. One a couple hundred years ago shorted out most of the wired communications from induced power. Let's go back to the kitchen, give him some space." Riri turns and heads back to the main area, detatching the helmet from her armor on her way past and setting it on the table. "Any other questions about humans you want to ask while you're at it?"
Peter makes it out of the bathroom a minute later. He's fairly steady on his feet…kinda…but sits down quickly. He looks at Kori and Riri apologetically. "I'm…really sorry about that. Thanks for the ginger ale, though. My mouth tastes like…well, never mind what it tastes like, I think I've unsettled you both enough as it is." He opens the can, and takes a swig of the soda. Yep…that helps.
"Oh, I mean an ejected solar mass," Kori tells Riri. "It happens eventually. Many burgeoning civilizations have been destroyed by such events."
She beams at Peter when he's out and moving, and rests reassuring hands on his shoulders when he sits. "It is the all rightness, friend Peter," Kori tells him. "Do you know what made you ill? You should avoid eating it in the future," she advises him.
Riri gives Pete a reassuring look, before reaching over and setting the helmet on the table in front of him with a clank. "Might take your mind off of things. And Kori's right. Did you eat the wrong street meat? I know some food trucks have issues…"
Peter's heartrate elevates percepitbly. Like trying not to think of pink elephants.
"I'm…pretty sure I knew what it was. And trust me, I'm not going anywhere NEAR that place again."
It's easier if he thinks of it as a cultural difference. It was better than the alternative. Dammit, he was NOT Kori's dad. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't brain-dead. She wasn't ANYTHING like that. And was it going to be his place to second-guess her decisions? Maybe she was perfectly fine with doing that, and He had no right to impose his morality on her.
"I'm going to have to pass on the Palace, though. I…don't go to places like that."
Riri's comment about 'places like that' makes sudden sense to Kori. She rubs her arms uneasily and looks around, trying to process the words and Peter's reaction.
"Peter, am I doing something wrong?" she asks him, bluntly. "You're expressing some very contradictory reactions, physiologically and socially. It's very confusing," she complains.
Riri shrugs, picking up the helmet again and moving back to mount it on the armor. Hmmm. THings are getting awkward. …Subject change? "It's too bad you're afraid of heights, Pete. It'd be cool for the three of us to go flying sometime." …Probably wont' work, but it's worth a try?
Peter looks to Kori. For a moment, he considers some lie, another way of dancing (ha-ha) around the truth. But he can't lie to her.
"Kori…I know you come from another world where the moral benchmarks are different. Very different. A place like that…people go there to look at beautiful women take their clothes off to entice men and women to respond to their arousal by giving money for real or imagined attention. A lot of guys…and girls, I assume…enjoy that. But I don't. I've never gone to one of those places. Never even thought about it. There is a reason that many dancers call it a 'strip-tease.' They strip their clothes off and tease men with their bodies."
He looks down at his can.
"I can't tell you it's wrong. You may find it fulfilling, even liberating. But I cannot go to a place like that and consider looking at you in…that way. Any woman, really, but especially you."
"I … don't find it fulfilling /or/ liberating," Kori tells Peter, looking baffled. "I am dancing, and people respond positively to my appearance and my erotic display. But it is a paycheck. And while our backer is quite generous, I have learned how dishonorable it is for someone to not have a job in your culture."
She gets to her feet with a too-smooth motion. "Do you wish to traverse New York with myself and Riri? She is a very agile flier, and it is an enjoyable way to spend an evening," Kori says. She beams a smile at Peter and offers him a hand.
…Well that's awkward. Riri marks this firmly down under cultural differences. "He's afraid of heights, Kori. I offered the first time I showed him the armor. Apparently he gets really bad vertigo. …Also, It wouldn't be a good idea while his stomach's queasy. …We could make chicken soup or something if you think it'd help though." She looks at Peter, expression a bit concerned.
Peter sighs. "Maybe another time for sightseeing. What I'd like to do is send these FAFSA forms, and soup sounds like a good idea. Something to settle down my stomach. Besides…" he smiles crookedly to Koriandr. "It has been awhile since we just spent time in each other's company."
Kori struggles VERY. HARD. with something. Probably regarding Peter and his feelings about altitude.
"…yes, some… soup would be prudent," Kori agrees, and drifts into the kitchen.
"And friend Peter, you know you are /always/ welcome company," Kori reminds him. After all, Peter's one of her best friends.
She beams at Peter then bites into a can of coup with a growl and upends it into a pot on the stove.