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If I met Astrid Farnsworth, I'd SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I'd be smiling, because she is lovely and intelligent and helpful and a good laboratory scientist and has a great sense of humor and is funny and can also be badass, after all she is an FBI agent.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I would be awestruck and tongue-tied and shy but she would be charming and welcoming, but not too effusive to make me uncomfortable, just enough to offer me a seat in the lab, and some bad warmed over coffee, and explain what she's doing on the computer, and urge me not to mind the body parts hooked up with electrodes, and wave laughingly when Gene moos and startles me, and ask me about what I do, and tell humorous but affectionate stories about Walter--"You'll never believe what he did for April Fool's Day! He rigged up a device so it would look like Gene was giving chocolate milk! That old man, he's not as crazy as he seems!"--and whisper about the secrets the team has uncovered, and say a few worried words about how pale Olivia is looking, and grin when she talks about Peter playing "The Way You Look Tonight" on the piano.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I'd ask her about how it was to meet her alternate self--was it fun, like having a twin sister, or dislocating, like you were losing your identity? Was it like looking in a mirror at a woman wearing clothes and a beret you'd never wear, or was it like looking at a strangely familiar stranger? Or was it just like meeting anyone else, someone shy and scared and awkward, that just needed a happy grin and a cup of coffee to feel at home in a strange strange universe?
If I met Astrid Farnsworth, I'd probably find myself flirting a little, getting lost in those wonderful warm eyes, watching her nose wrinkle in concentration as she examines some data, or find myself staring at her--um--back walking across the lab to grab a sheaf of papers. I'd wonder if she saw anything in me, just a curiosity or a bureaucrat like so many others, or if she'd see the spark of interest in my gaze, maybe meet it with an inquiring, even seductive, look of her own. Reach her hand across the lab table, brush my wrist with her fingers, touch her lip with her tongue, give a throaty hum, and maybe gesture toward the back room with promise in her smile.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth, I'd ... call her by her right name.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I'd be smiling, because she is lovely and intelligent and helpful and a good laboratory scientist and has a great sense of humor and is funny and can also be badass, after all she is an FBI agent.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I would be awestruck and tongue-tied and shy but she would be charming and welcoming, but not too effusive to make me uncomfortable, just enough to offer me a seat in the lab, and some bad warmed over coffee, and explain what she's doing on the computer, and urge me not to mind the body parts hooked up with electrodes, and wave laughingly when Gene moos and startles me, and ask me about what I do, and tell humorous but affectionate stories about Walter--"You'll never believe what he did for April Fool's Day! He rigged up a device so it would look like Gene was giving chocolate milk! That old man, he's not as crazy as he seems!"--and whisper about the secrets the team has uncovered, and say a few worried words about how pale Olivia is looking, and grin when she talks about Peter playing "The Way You Look Tonight" on the piano.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth I'd ask her about how it was to meet her alternate self--was it fun, like having a twin sister, or dislocating, like you were losing your identity? Was it like looking in a mirror at a woman wearing clothes and a beret you'd never wear, or was it like looking at a strangely familiar stranger? Or was it just like meeting anyone else, someone shy and scared and awkward, that just needed a happy grin and a cup of coffee to feel at home in a strange strange universe?
If I met Astrid Farnsworth, I'd probably find myself flirting a little, getting lost in those wonderful warm eyes, watching her nose wrinkle in concentration as she examines some data, or find myself staring at her--um--back walking across the lab to grab a sheaf of papers. I'd wonder if she saw anything in me, just a curiosity or a bureaucrat like so many others, or if she'd see the spark of interest in my gaze, maybe meet it with an inquiring, even seductive, look of her own. Reach her hand across the lab table, brush my wrist with her fingers, touch her lip with her tongue, give a throaty hum, and maybe gesture toward the back room with promise in her smile.
If I met Astrid Farnsworth, I'd ... call her by her right name.
