bleps | PRISMATICA OVERFLOW

((ooc; cont. from here))

[It’s a voice he recognizes — and will always recognize — almost immediately. He has a hold of the trapped man, arms hooked beneath his shoulders, heel of his shoes dug into the ground, and he turns his head to look at Arenvald’s approach.]

Arenvald! Hurry! I’m not strong enough to keep hold of him for much longer—

[Verbal confirmation of what his friend was thinking, and the visual comes next: The vines jerk forward without preamble, causing Connor to lose his balance and land hard on his back. He lets out a grunt, and a vine curls itself around his foot, trying to claim two instead of one.

help he’s a disaster]

((ooc; cont. from here))

[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.

((ooc; cont. from here))

Prompto.

[The name-greeting is given a little more jovially as compared to meeting a stranger. Connor’s eyes light up with recognition and the line of his shoulders eases slightly, and the tentacle bobs comically as he speaks.]

It’s Connor, and sure, why not?

[There’s probably other things to converse about, such as their shared assumption that this is likely not Astoria’s doing, but in the moment— well, they’re already in the booth, aren’t they? Connor likes to do things in order, organized and precise as he is, and he presses his hand flatter against the panel.]

Though you do have the advantage of knowing me ahead of time, so expect skewed results.

[It’s said without any criticism, though, light and earnest. The question pops up, which expect Prompto to guess at what one of Connor’s hobbies is:

-COOKING
-COIN TRICKS
-BALLROOM DANCING]

((ooc; cont. from here))

Starting easy, I think.

[Which sounds like a confidently bold assumption for someone wearing a stupid octopus hat. Normally, at least — but Connor would have to be blind to not notice the policeman’s uniform, even if he doesn’t recognize the name of the department. The answer is quick—]

You work with the police.

[—and studded with curiosity.]

The giveaway is obviously how you’re dressed. [A grin.] If the roles were reversed, the same answer would apply to myself. Though my uniform isn’t exactly as blatant as yours.

[He’s lost the top half of his android uniform, the jacket with his model number and “ANDROID” emblazoned across it, leaving him in just a white dress shirt, a skinny tie, and nice, dark jeans.

And a dumb hat.]

((ooc; cont. from here!))

No, don’t— Listen, don’t be sorry. [Brows knit together tightly, focusing his gaze on the other. It’s impossible to ignore the vines, especially when they lash so close to his face, but Connor is equal parts determined and stubborn. He continues speaking, trying to keep the thread of calm taut.]

It isn’t your fault. All of this is unpredictable. If you can just grab my hand, I can pull you out. You don’t have to dismiss all of your… shielding. It might help deter the vines.

[A crack as a vine hits said shielding, but Connor only presses a hand forward.]

Come on, it’ll be all right.

[If allowed, he’ll reach forward to grab his hand when the barrier’s gone down enough.]

((ooc; cont. from here))

[Sending a blade. Connor processes the meaning quick-fire fast, already turning his head to look in the man’s direction, while keeping a tight hold of the citizen still wrapped tight in the vines. Ignis is all impressive dexterity, a laughable sight compared to the android now knocked to the ground, but it’s something to be appreciated later — right now, that dagger embeds itself in a vine itself, making it twist and writhe. Connor reaches out quickly, deft fingers curling around its haft, yanking it free and then swiping at the ones assaulting him.

It cuts cleanly, leaking an ooze with each laceration. Despite the chaos, Connor is careful to avoid it, even as he works to free the citizen next. Moments pass, his LED blinks a mad yellow, and he hopes that Ignis can hold off the vines just a little longer— just a little—

The cut vines give way, the citizen latches onto he android, heaving with fear. Connor is quick to rise them both to their feet, swiping at any vines that get too close.]

Come on! Let’s go!

FOR ARENVALD;

FOR ANGELA;

FOR PROMPTO;

FOR LEON;

FOR TAKATO;

FOR IGNIS;