Matthew
	Disreputable would be a good word. Scruffy would be
another, even though there's nothing specific which points that
up. It's just the air of the man. On the taller side of average,
he is slight of build, the permanent slouch conspiring to make him
seem almost small. Two months ago his hair was probably neatly
cut, but now it could use a trim, almost reaching his collar in
back. He is dressed casually, almost to the point of insult. A
long-sleeved shirt of some sturdy, fading-navy material is his
only concession to the chilly Martian temperature, worn over a
T-shirt of dull grey. His jeans are battered and faded, and his
sneakers were probably once white.

Daisy
	Not wispy, but definitely not particularly solid, the
over-all impression one would glean from a peripheral glance at
Daisy Cole is of a pale and dirty young tomboy. She's not short,
but she's not tall, either. Hovering on the thin side of
'average', what figure she has is generally hidden by the oil- and
grease-stained denim overalls she wears over everything else,
which in this case is just a ratty pink long undershirt.
	The girl's curly, nearly white blonde hair is cut at that
awkward length that's too short for a ponytail, but long enough to
get in her face and be a nuisance. Her skin is very pale, and if
the freckles dusted across her face are any indication of what
would happen if she tried to tan, the paleness isn't much of a
surprise. With wide eyes - excuse the poetry - that're as blue as
a summer sky, a small round mouth, and a very young-looking,
pixielike face, she manages to look good despite the fact that she
dresses like a hayseed mechanic.

Ahh, paperwork. It's what makes the world go 'round. Paperwork and
degrees of laziness. While one degree of laziness dictates that
paperwork, when possible, should be filled out by machinery, a
whole different level of laziness dictates that the walk to one's
new apartment and the task of unpacking one's belongings in order
to acquire the requisite machinery together make far too
intimidating a hurdle to jump. This is why there's a young woman
taking up an entire corner of the steps to the Waycross Town Hall,
using only herself, her paperwork, and her iced coffee. Really,
it's an impressive display of public slovenliness. But it's nice
out. Not that it's ever nasty.

Public slovenliness=good! Though Matthew hasn't quite lost all
sense of decorum - he's not in the Army for crying out loud - he
certainly appreciates people who are willing to relax the rules a
little. And he also appreciates attractive young women who look
easily distractable. On his way through, having finally located
the alcohol on this godforsaken planet, the surgeon pauses and
wanders over, hands in pockets, to see what's up. "You should be
careful, I hear they plan on introducing weather systems sometime
this century."

Daisy looks up blankly, mid-sip and mid-word, then grins.
"Sometime this century? Bit of a delay on it, then?" Ahaha.
Australia. She sets down her beverage and holds up a finger in the
universal sign for 'wait just a second', and finishes the word she
was trying to write. Looking up again, she absently brushes her
hair from her face. "As long as it's not today, so I can get these
stupid forms done..."

Hey, she's Australian. Matt is not displeased, and he smiles,
taking his hands out of his pockets and crouching to get a closer
look at the forms. "Al fresco paperwork, I like it. It's
non-traditional, yet effective. What are you up to?"

Oh, he's not displeased, eh? Well, thank goodness for small
favors. We wouldn't want the God of Oozing Charisma to be
displeased because the current subject of his attention is
Australian. This all, of course, Daisy is utterly oblivious to.
She's not oblivious to the charisma, though. Offering a grin back,
she turns the form she's working on around, just long enough for
Matthew to see what it is. "Nothing I couldn't've done before I
got here," she says ruefully. "I don't remember if I forgot to do
it, or if they forgot to send it to me. Just census-type
information, and a bit of detail for the place I'm going to be
working at."

"Oh, new arrival? Same here, where are you staying?" Not what do
you do or where are you from, but where are you staying. Matt's
mind occasionally runs on rails.

"Bradbury 1 somewhere," the girl answers, waving a hand around
vaguely. "I forget. I've only been there once so far." To this
statement she adds an incredibly loaded 'innocent' look.

He brightens visibly, managing to make the smile look innocently
pleased. "Well that's where I am!" And finally, he gets around to
offering his hand. "Matt Pierce. But you can call me anytime." It
shouldn't work, it's a hackneyed and easy line.

Under normal circumstances, that kind of line would get a smirk.
If you're lucky. But this girl returns the handshake with a
positively delighted grin. "Daisy Cole. You expecting me to yell
across the dome?" Hint: Numbers help.

"I'm in one-oh-two, just buzz me on the way past sometime. I'll
show you my bleak and drab apartment and you can tell me where I
should put pictures up." Matthew decides crouching is getting
painful and pushes to a stand, wincing slightly. Eight hours of
surgery today, oh joy. "What brings you to Waycross?"

Lovely, Matthew's decided crouching is getting painful - because
Daisy's decided the same thing about paperwork. She starts
gathering it up into a folder, which she's going to have to sort
out and enter electronically later anyway. "Sounds like you know
how to show someone a particularly good time, eh? When I figure
out where I am, you're welcome to stop over and try out the batch
of Grand Moff Tarkin Dunkelhefweizen I finished before I left." A
beat, and then she's done gathering, and stands. Then remembers
her drink. Dammit! Trying not to spill her papers as she reaches
for it, she adds, "I'm a roboticist. They needed one at Flanagan
Research Center."

Batch of what? Matthew blinks, but opts not to ask, because this
is not a stage of the game at which you want to look ignorant.
That can wait until after-- uh, until later. "Really? I prefer to
stick to tinkering with systems that can say thank you later."
Brief pause. "I'm a doctor."

She laughs dryly, shaking her head. "You've been running into the
wrong robots. Mine are a lot more polite." She manages to snag her
iced coffee, and sips it - then, eyes widening, Daisy gives
Matthew a brilliant smile. "A doctor? Really! You know, I haven't
had an examination in quite a while."

"Really?" Matthew makes a point of checking his watch. "Well I
don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow afternoon. You look just
*fine* to me so far, but you can't be too careful."

"No, you certainly can't," agrees Daisy, finishing off her coffee
and tossing the container into a convenient bin. She hugs her
papers loosely to her stomach, both arms around them, and gives
Matt this expression that's the absolute picture of innocence.
"Are you sure it wouldn't be any trouble?"

Matthew takes on a Serious Expression, stepping closer so he can
lower his voice confidentially. "For you? Of course not. I'll even
throw in a free appendectomy. Redeemable any time."

Oh no, is that a regretful look in those earth-sky blue eyes? The
ones that're so close now? It *is*! "Oh, I couldn't, Matt - I've
already had mine out." The regret evaporates, and Daisy's eyes are
twinkling again. "But time's a-wasting for that exam. If you're
sure you're free -now-, I can pick up a couple bottles from my
place on the way."

What the hell, Matt thinks, and shifts another half-step closer so
that he can make an attempt at resting a casual hand on her hip.
"I'm absolutely, fundamentally and in all other ways, free right
now."

An attempt which earns the enterprising Matt a raised brow, but is
otherwise entirely successful. "Well then," says Daisy quietly,
still grinning, "lead the way, Dr. Pierce."