Cora Rayne had only been here for just over a month and was already building a reputation for notorious overtime. There was no reason to be this diligent about her work, really - it wasn't running away, certainly, and it mostly involved taking notes at regular intervals and marking her findings off on a chart - but somehow, she just didn't want to go home. The first theories about it, that she might be caught in an unhappy relationship, had long since disappeared - she wasn't married and while she seemed to have no romantic interest in anyone at work, this increasingly just seemed like an aromantic predisposition rather than an indicator of a significant other.
As it were, Cora was working on convincing otherwise functional bacteria to produce certain complex toxins rather than their usual metabolic waste. The idea was pharmacological and not really innovative in the field, but it was important ground work, and if anyone was enthusiastic about doing it, it was Cora.
In the bottom floors of Deiparous Mount Isa - not, technically, Mount Isa, but associated with the city for all legal intents and purposes - the difference between night and day was staff. At night time, it shrank to a minimum.
Right now, Cora was sitting at one of the computers, having sat down to compare her notes to previous sheets she and others had entered into the system. By now, she was going through the motions of someone who should be going home but wants to stay informed - checking up on recent intranet information, which mostly came in the form of publicised results For Internal Use Only.
The delivery chart had a red blotch on it. Something that should have arrived earlier today had not made it in. It was being investigated, paper-trail wise - she could see an attached ticket to the organisational powers that be and she knew it would be taken very, very seriously - but she found herself pondering the route between Townsville and Mount Isa, regardless.
She stared at it. Was there anything in there that was worth extorting them with? That had, as far as she knew, happened once before. Although. “Ivan,” she addresses the only other character in the room with her, currently thumbing through inventory lists of a mundane sort as he was. “Were you around in 2012? The blackmail story?” Ivan was good for gossip, even if the technical details were often mangled by the fact that it simply wasn't his field. He heard a lot of things, mostly because by the time he got really active in the compound, people were as bored as Cora and happy to chat.
Heh, 2012, that was the year when his Australian adventure began. Fed up with his poor life, thieving politicians and general lack of opportunities in 2012 something finally cracked in Ivan and he went away for good and left the motherland behind. Russia was still great he thought but her people were poor. He remembered vaguely something about blackmail being mentioned soon after he got a job here, but his languages skill and general chaos in his life made him miss much of what was going on back then. “Eh I only remamber something about some Hacker and blackmail being mentioned but not much more than that, 2012 was the year when I came out of plane and landed here, heh, I can't believe it have been three years already.”
So that had been a digital breach, not a physical interception. That made sense - it was certainly easier to hide your traces online than it was in real life. Two fingers rub at the tip of her nose for a moment, a gesture of absent-mindedness.
A pause and a sigh later, she's turning the computer off. “We're missing a delivery,” she tells Ivan without any particular inflection to her tone, matter-of-fact, revealing the cause of her enquiry. “It's probably nothing, I guess. Do you know if that happens sometimes? I don't know, last minute transport schedule changes that weren't adjusted in the intranet for some reason?”
It was a rather specific question Ivan was unlikely to be able to answer, but he was the only one in the room at the moment, and - she glanced at her wristwatch - she'd be vanishingly unlikely to catch anyone from Logistics on the premises at this time in the evening.
Missing delivery, that made Ivan make a slight smile. Eh, if she knew what went on in Rostov oblast during his time in a shipyard there, missing deliveries was great. But this is not Russia any more, and these are not the typical packages they handled back in Rostov. Ivan shrugged. “Packages have a way of going missing and then suddenly turning up, if everything was perfect I guess we would not be humans, I wouldn't worry…” as he finished speaking one of the halogen lights in the room started flickering and a few moments later died on them, Ivan frowned at the direction of the light. “And speaking of not perfect, this needs changing now.”
That prompts a single syllable of a chuckle from Cora, her gaze cast up to the offending light. “I don't envy your job, Ivan,” she comments, changing the topic. “How long have you had it?” If this place ever ended up with a contaminant, Ivan was likely the last one anyone was going to look out for. At least the scientists were difficult to replace as far as Deiparous was concerned. The janitor, though? On the other hand, if it wasn't a total catastrophe, he probably knew the place like the back of his hand and as long as he knew what he was facing could probably take care of himself and any others he came across along the way.
Ivan was already at it with the light, last thing he needs is that stuck up mudak Robinson rapping him over the maintenance of the facility tomorrow morning. As he started removing the halogen light rod paused for a second during the question. “A few months over two years is… and I still can't get used to the heat here.”
Another chuckle, this time as two syllables. “Is that why you chose to work in an underground facility with air-conditioning?” Cora mocks lightly. She didn't expect the answer to be 'yes', given the entire question was is jest, but her mind's eye supplied an air-conditioning failure as the ultimately ironic disaster in Ivan's job. Her smile grows a little more distant - other Deiparous disasters were capable of being a lot less innocent, of course. Maybe she did envy Ivan for his job, just a little.
Ivan glared seriously at Cora for a moment and answered simply and quickly: “Yes,” as he quickly returned his attention to his job, Russians had a peculiar sense of humour indeed. Few moments later and the light was again working. “I guess that's it for today.”
Cora shifted to her feet, her gaze lingering on the computer for a moment, having a slight urge to scratch her curiosity's itch. But it was probably nothing. It surely was less exciting than some of the mismatches she'd found in the sheets, but those didn't make for conversation with people outside the field.
“Well, I should probably head home,” she says, voice more of a defeated exhale than anything else. “See you tomorrow, Ivan,” she adds, glancing across at him with an expression that might as well be apologetic. “Thanks for the chat.”
This was the sort of polite conversation Ivan was entirely used to. He was mostly invisible - and the times when he wasn't, he was a stand-in for a more relevant colleague. Cora had spoken to him some times before, of course, but she didn't even honestly class as an acquaintance. No matter - for all Ivan knew, the same was true for the other employees' perception of Cora.
Ivan nodded to Cora. “Enjoy your evening.” And indeed it was getting a bit late. Ivan picked up the tools that were available, and headed back to his supply room to store them back; it was time to go home.