plasticasshole | Aefenglom IC Inbox

Oh.

[His expression drops a little. Is it really his fault all the time? Connor sighs.]

I'm at home. The front door is unlocked.

[He's not getting up from the floor yet.]

[Connor doesn't have to get up if he doesn't want to. Rich is happy to open the door for himself, stumbling over to Connor's side and frowning at him. He furrows his eyebrows at him for what feels like several minutes.]

Yup. You're blazed.

[Wonderful deduction skills. He's the Sherlock Holmes of our generation.]

[Connor rolls onto his back and looks mournfully up at Rich, upside down.]

Why would you do this to yourself on purpose?

[Rich flickers in his vision before he forces himself to sit up. Woah...]

I'm experiencing several errors, and yet my diagnostics program tells me I'm fine.

[He wonders how Rich feels. It's probably different for a human... maybe it's more pleasant?]

Mm... there are reasons for it. Helps one of my friends, Michael, so he can relax. Can make you feel all warm and fuzzy... least if you know it's coming.

[Rich doesn't have a problem with being stoned, but unexpectedly stoned is a little weird for sure. He flops down beside Connor, staring at him before poking the LED on the side of his head.]

So why is this all yellow all of a sudden?

[Connor's head lolls to the side as Rich pokes it.]

My LED is usually blue, but it will become yellow under stressful circumstances, or situations in which I'm required to use more processing power. It will turn red if I'm in a critical condition, or if I'm experiencing very negative emotions.

Weed isn't supposed to be stressful, dude. But I guess unexpected weed is different, hey?

[He rubs his own forehead.]

It's okay. All we can do now is wait it out. Maybe lean into it, get some munchies and lounge around.

I'm not sure it's affecting me the same way it would a human.

[Maybe if he just let himself relax it would work out... he takes an unnecessary breath and closes his eyes briefly.]

What are munchies?

[He giggles at the question, remembering then that Hank had said Connor was staunchly anti-junk food.]

You know, munchies! You get hungry when you're high, so you eat stuff! Stuff that tastes good and makes you happy.

[Maybe if he words it that way, Connor won't realize he's suggesting loading up on sugar.]

Well, I don't eat.

[He narrows his eyes at Rich comically, though.]

I have sandwiches made in the fridge. I made them today. Eat those.

Ugh. C'moooooon, Connor. Take the stick out of your ass. Sandwiches aren't munchies! They're healthy and booooooooring!

[Wait, wasn't Rich supposed to be the one looking after Connor? When did it turn out to be the other way around?]

I don't have a stick in my ass. And it sounds like you're saying you want junk food.

[But... you know what, he can't actually be bothered to argue against it. Besides-]

We don't have any in the house. It would only tempt Hank.

There's nothing wrong with treating yourself once in a while! Ugh, c'mon. Let's go get something then! I want snacks!

[Two stoned people stumbling into a market. What could possibly go wrong there?]

[Connor lets out a breath intended to steel himself, and gets to his feet. Okay, it's not so bad... he can probably do this. No, he will do this.]

Fine.

[But he's going to point out all of the carbs and sugar and salt in everything Rich picks up, in some vain attempt to dissuade him from actually eating it.]

I'll follow you.

Alright, awesome! Let's go find some... fucking Victorian junk food, I guess!

[He at least knows there are cookies at bakeries... some people have to be selling old timey potato chips, right? Rich gets up and starts jogging for the door. Maybe his energy will at least help him burn off the calories?]

Great.

[Connor follows as promised, feeling more like he's floating along after him. He hopes Rich doesn't buy a lot, but... what can he do to stop him? Rich does what he wants.]

Can you at least get some fruit as well...?

Hmm... well, I guess I could try. Strawberry shortcake counts as a fruit, right?

[There are tons of desserts in the bakeries. Rich is going to buy all of them. And then stuff every last one in his face.]

No, it doesn't.

[He is so tired. He follows Rich down to the nearest bakery, barely taking any notice of his surroundings- which is the opposite of how he usually operates. Right now though, he doesn't think he can process everything.]

Nah, totally does. It's got berry right in the name!

[It's fine. Rich is more than content to process for Connor... and gather up a dozen cupcakes and other sweets while gaping at every other strange confection the shop offers. When he goes up to pay, he asks the shopkeeper if anyone in this world is bothering to sell potato chips.]

[Connor can't be bothered to argue. He looks around idly as Rich gathers up his treats, and follows him to the counter in a bit of a daze.]

That's a lot of calories.

[He proceeds to start informing Rich of exactly how many. He doesn't expect it'll make a difference, but he can say he tried.]

Is it really? Wow, Connor, tell me more!

[Rich seems to know there is a lot of calories in what he's about to eat, but he doesn't really care. Honestly, if Connor keeps this up, he may get annoyed. God knows it's not the first time a computer has tried to police what he eats.]

[Connor's lips set into a hard line.]

Fine, don't let me stop you from making bad decisions.

[But Rich is probably going to regret it later when he's eaten everything and feels sick.]

No, I won't let you. There's this thing called freedom, Connor. Means even if I make a bad decision, it's no one but my own. So you're just going to have to deal with it, alright?

[Rich huffs as he finds a bag of cookies that he wants to purchase, putting it on the counter nearby.]

Fine, but don't complain to me when you feel ill.

[He keeps his mouth shut as Rich piles up more treats. Fine, he's a grown adult. He can buy his own junk food with his own money and deal with his own nausea like one.]

I won't feel ill and if I did, I wouldn't complain to you. You really don't get the idea of treating yourself once in a while, huh?

[He asks over his shoulder as he pays for the treats, already taking a bite out of one of the cookies.]

I guess I don't.

[Again, he can't be bothered to argue. He can't be bothered to do much of anything. He just wants to lay on the floor again.]

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firewalled - 2019-10-24 22:38 (UTC) - Expand