plasticasshole | Aefenglom IC Inbox

[Connor goes to leave, but stalls again.]

I'm not sure I can just leave you here like this. You can lean on me, there's no shame in it.

[He looks down at L earnestly.]

We don't have to tell anyone I had to help you... I won't say anything if you don't.

[Such a noble android. It's highly inconvenient and more than a big annoying... but ultimately, L's probably not getting home otherwise, is he?

He reaches up for Connor's hand, pulling himself up and fairly melting against his side.]

[Connor puts a hand around L's waist, taking his weight easily. He starts to walk, glad that they're so close to the cottages.]

I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. It's just in my nature to ask questions.

[As a fellow detective, L can surely appreciate that.]

I hope we can still be friends.

[Really, they have a lot in common, aside from just not particularly relating much to humans.]

It isn't your fault.

[He says so in a tone that qualifies as vehement, for him.]

It's in mine not to answer them, but as I said, I know you mean well. I know you're my friend.

[Connor seems pleased by that answer.]

I'm glad. I find you very interesting. I would like to learn more about you... as long as you're comfortable with it, of course.

[He wonders if the SQUIP is in as they reach the door to their house, and rings the doorbell maybe a little too long before concluding that the answer is no. He shifts so that L can grab his key, assuming he has one.]

Oh? Is that so?

[L moves a hand to the door frame, rummaging in his jacket for his key.]

I find you interesting, as well, even if you're far too interested in very boring, unimportant things.

[His insecurities, his sorrow, his life. They need to be talked about, there is something in him crying to talk. But L is not going to crack that easily.]

I also think you're a good cop.

They’re not unimportant or boring to me, Linden. Any kind of information can be used to create a picture of what someone is like. And... thank you, I appreciate it. I almost miss being a detective, you know.

[He helps L inside the house and shuts the door behind them gently.]

Is there anything you’d like to know about me?

[Leading L to the couch, he sits him down and seats himself beside him.]

[Slender fingers slide the key into the lock, turning it, the satisfying snick of what fits and works strangely reassuring. The SQUIP's not home; he can tell through their Bond that it's out at this time, and maybe that's for the best.

He and Connor have more in common than just not relating to humans all the time. L can't talk about his career, it's too deeply carved into his psyche to keep it locked down right along with his emotions, but he gravitates toward the sentiment. It's a hard same for him; being a detective was his life. He misses it every second.]

Why "almost?" Can you feel conflicted over something you were presumably manufactured to do?

[Clearly, the answer is yes. He takes his seat on the couch, reaching for a cold coffee on a nearby table and using magic to warm the cup through.]

I can, yes. Being a good detective was everything to me, and it's programmed in me to want to do that. At the same time, I'm... happy, right now. I get to work with animals and unite them with families offering them a loving home. It feels like I'm doing something good, even if it's not exactly the kind of good I was programmed to do.

[And that feels good in turn.]

...And I suppose a small part of me enjoys wondering what Cyberlife would think of their most advanced prototype cleaning out litter boxes for a living.

[Worth a small fortune, and spending his days covered in fur.]

[L's eyes widen slightly. He knew this about Connor through his own Bond with the SQUIP, of course, but... actually hearing Connor talk with such gentle affection about his new and very different job is somewhat fascinating.]

Is there much of a demand for them here? Animals?

[He's never in his life had a pet. He might not actually understand the appeal very well.]

Yes, we get a lot of customers. The most popular pet seems to be dogs. I'm not surprised... I like dogs.

[He looks L over with interest.]

What about you? Do you like animals?

I'm... not sure.

[He's not. He seems vaguely discouraged just thinking about it. Living things have never relied on L to survive, and it's likely a very good thing. Any nurturing instinct he possesses begins and ends with his slavish devotion to his obsessions, most of which involved trapping or unraveling a human being instead of comforting (and being comforted by) something fluffy.]

I don't eat meat. So... maybe.

[It's more likely that he just doesn't like the taste and texture. By far.]

[Connor tilts his head. Connor knew he liked dogs before he even had a personality of his own. Is it really supposed to be a difficult question?]

Well... what do you like? Or what don't you like?

[A lot of things that are supposed to be extremely difficult are incredibly easy for L.

The precise opposite is also true. He fidgets, shoulders raising; it looks more like something wild's defensive posture than a mere shrug.]

Why do you ask?

I want to learn more about you.

[He says it simply, giving L what he hopes is an encouraging smile.]

I find you interesting. Is that a problem?

[Yes.]

No, of course not...

[He reaches up to tug at a fistful of hair at the nape at his neck. Learning more about him is what lots of people who would have liked to kill him wanted, too.]

I like elegance, symmetry and precision. I don't like their opposites.

[Connor... probably could have guessed.]

[Connor reaches out to take L's hand and pull it gently away from his hair.]

I like swimming, music, animals and socialising.

[He feels like he should share too, since L did.]

You should find something better to occupy your hands with. Here.

[Connor pulls a coin from his pocket and rolls it across his knuckles.]

I use this to calibrate my cognitive and physical functions. I also enjoy just playing with it.

[He flicks it from one hand to another, then holds it out for L to take.]

You try.

[It's... not really what L expected to hear from an android. But then, neither was "I like dogs." He's not sure why "music" is the most surprising to him; he himself struggles to enjoy it, usually considering it distracting noise from the thoughts that require analytical consideration and attention, foremost.]

What kind of music?

[His brow is furrowed as he takes the coin. His skinny fingers turn it, reflecting the light, recognizing it as something shiny that a mer would enjoy inherently. He's silent for a second.]

I like The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. And lighthouses.

Edited 2019-09-27 04:33 (UTC)

Oh, I like all kinds of music. I'm familiar with heavy metal, which I enjoy, but I think I like the violin more. I've been learning to play it.

[Connor gestures to the coin.]

Try rolling it across your fingers. You'll find it's a much better distraction than pulling on your hair.

[Pulling on his hair is soothing for the same reason picking and biting at his fingertips and nails is; the sensations are grounding, give him focus and weight to lend his scattering attention toward.

Connor's own focus reminds him that he is communicating with an android, and not some pompous, ridiculous psychiatrist whose entire goal is cracking L's skull open like a walnut. His own professed likes are perhaps mundane enough that they didn't warrant comment, or perhaps it simply isn't in Connor's programming to process their potential simplicity or complexity; either way, L is relieved to let them crumble like powdered glass to sand, and return the focus to where it belongs.

He begins to practice. He can tell it's one of those particular fidgets that is second nature once it's learned, but perhaps difficult to coax to that point.]

Most people would say that heavy metal and classical music are on the opposite ends of a spectrum.

[Both are, in the end, kind of just distracting noise to L.]

Have you only recently broadened your scope, in this regard? Not just learning, but listening, as well?

I never used to listen to music, really. I heard it, but never enjoyed it for what it was. I think it must be because of my Monster changes that I grew to appreciate it more here.

[He always wanted to listen to music though, even before he fully deviated. Which is odd, because machines don’t want anything.]

I don’t think I would have picked up the violin back in Detroit.

[Connor pulls out yet another coin and spins it on the tip of his finger, letting it hop effortlessly from his index to his middle finger. He doesn’t even look at what he’s doing as he does it.]

[Small talk is not difficult in theory, but it exhausts L quickly. He nods a little more emphatically in an effort to keep his interest levels more obviously piqued, trying to file away what can be useful later. Through Connor, he's probably learned the most about mers than from any other source in Aefenglom. He continues to work at the coin, which he's sort of starting to get the hang of now that he's trying to move his fingers in a slightly different way. It's not exactly a fluid or easy-looking motion, but it's growing more so with L's dedication and practice. He wants the method to be understood before he picks up the pace, tries for something flashier.

I heard it, but never enjoyed it for what it was.

He thinks of his poem, the one that he mentioned and quickly tried to forget that he had.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Worth mentioning again? No...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

Ironically, L considers it a poem about how little he can contribute to a conversation about what are arguably the most important parts of being human. And he feels, almost, at times, the fool, for even letting it slip past his lips.]

Circumstances change; if we change with them, it's a sign of successful adaptation. It's a good thing... especially if you find your life more fulfilling as a result.

[It sounds like something a psychologist would say, right? L's sure he's heard it somewhere before.]

Edited 2019-09-27 21:39 (UTC)

[Connor hasn’t forgotten as such, and he looks at L thoughtfully.]

Maybe. I admittedly don’t know if my life would have been as fulfilling back home... I never had the chance to live free before this.

[And then—]

What is The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock? I’ve never heard of it before.

[It's another hard "same" for L; he lived his life exactly as he wanted to, of course, solving his cases his way and rarely compromising. He didn't want for entertainment, money, comfort, or much at all... and the fact that it was a lonely and dangerous life was, most days, just an afterthought. He spent most of his time at a computer, but it was a full and rich enough existence.]

Oh, it's...

[Difficult to explain, without prior knowledge. L resists the urge to reach up and pull at his hair again, or nibble at his nails, just focusing on that coin and the fact that it brings some mental relief, but not really adequate physical relief.]

T.S. Eliot was a famous poet in my world. It's one of his most studied works. Ordinarily I find poetry to be trite, and really more effort than the final result... but...

[The experience of feeling like someone he has never met, who died well before his birth, could empathize with the humanity he keeps at arm's length continues to astonish him so much that he struggles to find the words for it. He's not a poet, unlike Mr. Eliot.]

It's not really a love song. He also wrote about Hollow Men, and a Waste Land, and it really sounds more like those than anything remotely like love.

[Or what it's supposed to be, what it could be. He doesn't know much about it.]

It's about someone who admires something he can't touch.

I’ve never had the chance to explore poetry.

[He doesn’t know if it would be something he’d try to take too literally, or think too logically about.]

Do you know the poem well enough to recite it? I’d like to hear it.

[If it’s important to someone like L, it’s worth hearing.]

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hearthebell - 2019-09-28 19:24 (UTC) - Expand