[There’s nothing to be said about her appearance — or rather, nothing that Connor deigns to say. He’s polite, as always, though sharply observant. And a blunt tongue can sometimes be a failing for this android, but it doesn’t seem to rear its ugly head in this strange moment. Not yet at least.
So he just grins in the lurid pink lighting, nodding faintly. The tentacle hat bobbles accordingly.]
All right. Given that I’m designed to read people exceptionally well, I’d like to try my hand at being player 2. Though admittedly, my “mileage” might vary dependent upon how many tells you give me. So the saying goes.
( All those hats going around would be the death of her; they're so cute!! But she'd never wear one herself, really. A bit of a shame. She's enjoying them on others at least.
The way he phrases it, however, has her tipping her head with that same easy smile. )
Designed, is it? Well, I'll try to contain myself.
( And so her hand touches the panel, and once he does the same, the first set of questions appears:
It's as he vaguely admitted, despite his rather assured confidence otherwise. These snap-judgment guesses are based upon cold readings at best, and even then those reveal very little in the way of what her favorite food might be. Even Connor, the detective android, made to surpass a human counterpart's observational prowess, can only do so much when given very little to work with.
( Forgive her immediate laugh when he's scanned her over and answers aloud. )
Don't say it out loud! Or I'll know what you're—
( BZZT. WRONG...? She's tipping her head, because no, if it was some sort of food question, he probably had it correct. What could it think she likes more than pasta?? A good alfredo is all she needs in life. )
—being asked...? Wait, what was the question?
( The attendants are singsonging "No cheating~!" from behind the door, and she just looks frustrated. Geez!! )
FOR ANGELA;
[There’s nothing to be said about her appearance — or rather, nothing that Connor deigns to say. He’s polite, as always, though sharply observant. And a blunt tongue can sometimes be a failing for this android, but it doesn’t seem to rear its ugly head in this strange moment. Not yet at least.
So he just grins in the lurid pink lighting, nodding faintly. The tentacle hat bobbles accordingly.]
All right. Given that I’m designed to read people exceptionally well, I’d like to try my hand at being player 2. Though admittedly, my “mileage” might vary dependent upon how many tells you give me. So the saying goes.
no subject
The way he phrases it, however, has her tipping her head with that same easy smile. )
Designed, is it? Well, I'll try to contain myself.
( And so her hand touches the panel, and once he does the same, the first set of questions appears:
FAVORITE FOOD:
Pasta
Curry
Steak
Good luck and godspeed, Connor. )
no subject
It's as he vaguely admitted, despite his rather assured confidence otherwise. These snap-judgment guesses are based upon cold readings at best, and even then those reveal very little in the way of what her favorite food might be. Even Connor, the detective android, made to surpass a human counterpart's observational prowess, can only do so much when given very little to work with.
His eyes sweep across her form briefly, then-]
...Pasta.
no subject
Don't say it out loud! Or I'll know what you're—
( BZZT. WRONG...? She's tipping her head, because no, if it was some sort of food question, he probably had it correct. What could it think she likes more than pasta?? A good alfredo is all she needs in life. )
—being asked...? Wait, what was the question?
( The attendants are singsonging "No cheating~!" from behind the door, and she just looks frustrated. Geez!! )