[ She still isn't remotely ready to invite him into or near her living quarters. With that in mind, she gives a neutral answer, as well as a convenient one. ]
I am just finishing up some chores in the dining area. I - [ oh, cool.
guess who dropped her watch in the sink mid-sentence!
...
Somewhat gingerly, she leans closer to the basin and its plethora of hot, soapy water. Some of her hair falls forward and ends up in the water. ]
Okay. The conversation suddenly stops, but Lucina’s given him enough information to go off of. Propelled forward by the expectation of company and the curiosity regarding just… what happened, Connor doesn’t take long to find himself in the entranceway of the dining area — and the sink area of the kitchens, consequently.]
[ Intelligently, Lucina remains propped close to the lip of the basin a moment longer, waiting to see if Connor will respond. And he does! Just... not in the way she was expecting. A familiar voice pops up behind her and Lucina's reaction is so visceral, so immediate, that she whirls around and - bangs her knee, quite hard, on the corner of the tub. Her expression contorts just so, eyes widening, and it takes all her composure not to instinctly favour the knee. ]
Connor.
[ Some of the hair framing her face drips suds. It is the epitome of dignity and refinement, truly. ]
I - Ah, apologies. My watch slid off my wrist and into the sink, and I wasn't anticipating your quick arrival...
[Note for the future: refrain from sneaking up on Lucina.
It shouldn’t be surprising. It’s a reaction reserved for those who have seen too much conflict, who have fought off enemy forces with the cognizant danger of being constantly under threat. Her own shock nearly sends a response shooting up through his own circuitry, and when she slams her knee into a tub, he can’t help but twist his face into something like… secondhand empathy.
He steps forward, his tone almost apologetic.]
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. Is your watch all right? Do you need a towel?
[ She means it! A throbbing knee and slightly damp ends of her hair - well, that's just the cost of doing business. Or something. The point is, she doesn't look annoyed or even offended by her misfortune.
She turns back to the full sink basin, eyeing it with a tinge of resignation. ]
I haven't yet retrieved my bracelet, though.
[ TERMINOLOGY COUNTER— Watch: 1. Bracelet: 1. ]
If you'll give me just a moment, I will grab it so we can go.
[Connor, and his eagerness to help and be useful, once again flaring up and headbutting itself to the front and center. He's stepping forward, hiking up the sleeve of both his shirt and jacket, and reaching out to dunk his hand and forearm right into the basin.
Fishing out the watch (not the bracelet), his arm drips languidly with suds sticking to faux skin.]
If you're fortunate, it'll not have been submerged long enough to be... broken again. [Grabbing for a dry washrag nearby, he wipes away any excess water and hands it to Lucina expectantly.] ...But you should be more careful.
[ Well... Alright, then. Lucina watches, somewhat haplessly, as Connor bounds forward and does the thing before she can even finish rolling up her sleeve. She, uh, she rolls it back down with finessing fingers and then accepts her damp watch - which lights up at her touch! She didn't destroy it again! She now has a PhD in technology! ]
Yes, you're right.
[ She fastens it back around her wrist, careful to pull the band a little tighter through the buckle this time. ]
I ought to be used to having this device on me by now, and more cognizant of its safety. [ It's a watch, not a puppy. You know what, whatever. It's super serious declaration time! That is, her voice takes on its more regal, precise cadence, enunciating every syllable with exacting care. ] I will outgrow this carelessness.
[So serious. Connor, by way of reflecting the tone of those he speaks with (consider it a merit of his adaptive programming, focused upon social interactions), straightens his shoulders and replies with an even tone.]
I know that you will. It isn't so much carelessness as it is you being... unused to caring for technology, though.
[At least he offers reasoning behind it, enough to ease any doubts she might have regarding her own failures to... take care of her watch.]
Want me to help with the rest of the clean-up before we head out?
Thank you, but it's well in hand. I was finished before you arrived.
[ The severity of her overly serious affectation ebbs slightly. Lucina relaxing is something that only happens in small increments - little gestures and shifts that aren't always noticeable to the people around her. Being inobtrusive is a fairly necessary skill for a princess to learn at a young age, after all.
Of course, cleaning up the kitchen isn't very princessly in turn, but she's never seen it that way. Being too proud for menial work would be an ugly characteristic, in her mind.
But, like she said, it's been dealt with, so Lucina continues - ]
Shall we? There was something I wanted to speak to you about, but I decided it was best done in person.
[ Connor, apparently, gets no say in the matter. ]
[He won't linger overlong near the basin then, if Lucina's decided that there's nothing else to be done here. He accedes to her judgment, subtly driven forward by persistent curiosity.
He gets no say in the matter, but by way of being an android, he rarely does. Connor doesn't mind it, especially when he looks forward to the company.]
Right. Let's walk, then.
[And so they will! The trek out of the Temple is easy enough, and Connor briefly registers the outside air having qualities that would define it as "crisp" to the layman.]
Has something been bothering you?
["Best done in person". That implies a heavier weight to a conversation, or at least a reason for it to be private between two people beyond the confines of text messaging.]
[ As the grass, still stiff from the morning chill, crunches under her boots, Lucina contemplates their surroundings. It's quite nice out here, even with the implication of the changing seasons hanging low and brisk in the air.
Her pause is palpable. In truth, Lucina is very ignorant to the social rules of commenting on someone else's public conversation over a network. She hasn't exactly had Twitter or Facebook to break her into the concept. Lucina's tendency is to barrel forward bluntly, assuming that her natural eloquence will see her through - or, just as often, not thinking about it either way. Princess privilege never helped her learn that some topics are closed to her.
So, after that (palpable) pause, here's Lucina, pushing on clearly. He is not eased into it. ]
To tell the truth, I was privvy to the conversation with [ how even to describe it ] the individual from your home. The belligerent one. [ beat ] The one called "North". [ Because, you know, the belligerent one could describe Hank to a degree.
In her peripheral vision, Lucina holds Connor's expression, looking for any sign of reaction to her words, but doesn't add anything else right away. ]
[And what she’ll see is this: a tensing actuator across his jaw, the sharpening of features that denotes displeasure flitting across his face. The pause was telling in its own right, but for this subject to be broached without much preface isn’t something he was completely prepared for — ironic, given that Connor often barrels forward with “personal questions” on more than one occasion.]
Yes. The other android from my home. The deviant.
[The deviant, spoken like a word with sharp edges, expelled from his mouth in a similar way. LED blinking at his temple, Connor attempts to intercept where this conversation might be going.]
I imagine you have questions, then. I’m happy to answer them.
No, you aren't. Forgive me for saying so, but I can see it in your face.
[ Happy, that is. And, honestly? It's more hypocrisy from her, denying someone else the opportunity to hide behind their words, stripping them of their secrets. She's young, still, and will have these moments. ]
There's no reason to affect otherwise. [ Once started, she hardly knows how to stop. ] How do you actually feel about my bringing it up?
[Blunt. Enough to rattle most, maybe enough to jar his insides a little, but Connor is an android -- he can fall into schooled placidness, perhaps a little too obviously, but the advantage is there for him all the same.
His voice takes on something even, eyes pressed forward and refusing to really meet hers.]
As I said, I'm willing to answer any questions you have. [Stubborn, this one.] Though the circumstances are complicated.
[ Do you see what you just did there, Connor? Lucina, for all her faults, can't even imagine being this unsubtle - and this is from one cagey individual to another. Not for a single moment does she imagine he's unaware he's doing it (whether or not he is or isn't). ]
Connor...
[ gods
No, she digs her own heels in, gaze still lingering firmly on his face despite how his seems so faraway. Gently, she points out: ]
I did just ask you a question. You've let it go unanswered.
[It was very much purposeful. Connor has the uncanny ability to sidestep unwanted questions or phrases with clear rhetoric. Lucina's been privy to this happening more than once, a habit that succeeds among the unobservant.
He doesn't forget that Lucina doesn't qualify as such. Maybe he's just being hopeful. Not so fortunate this time; and so, the android has to now find a way to dance around her own wording, using so eagerly the word "feel".]
Admittedly... it's not preferable for me to talk about it. That android, North, she's quick to paint me in an unflattering light for the sake of furthering her own arguments.
[ Accepting that as something real (or real enough) from him, she starts to walk again. There's nothing assuming in her steps. Implicitly, it is up to Connor to dictate the pace of their stroll. ]
Emotional testimony only has as much power as others are willing to give it. You are hardly without allies here.
[ Herself, for one. For whatever it may mean. ]
For someone like you, she's... not what I might have expected.
[Connor keeps a steady step, stopping when she stops, continuing when she continues. Too used to following the lead of a human until unleashed upon a crime scene, in which he flits to and fro to complete his objective, unbound by restriction for blessedly passing moments — a strange thing when he’s the one expected to lead, instead. Plotting an aimless path beneath the bough of rustling branches as the forest opens up to them proper.]
She’s nothing like me. [A quick correction, fingers flexing, and he clasps them behind his back.] She’s a deviant, but beyond that — she’s stubborn, uncooperative, and brash. And she’s been avoiding me, though all I hope to do is to question her in the event that we’re to return home in a… timely manner.
[ Sometimes, Lucina hangs back her more decisive tendencies just to see what he'll do. This is once such incident: from the aimlessness of their walk to her unassuming observations spurring opinion out of him.
If she were a little less upright, the fact that Connor apparently believes he isn't stubborn may startle a laugh out of her. As it is, she merely internalises the observation, politely hiding a smile. (For a moment, it threatens at her - eyes and lips both, a muscle twitching in her throat as she smothers it back.) ]
I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you explain what you mean by "deviant" in this context?
And I mentioned to you, briefly, in that same conversation that some of these murders were facilitated by androids themselves.
[He recalls the conversation clearly.]
Androids that have deviated from their original programming. That no longer abide by what they were made to do, and exhibit what they believe is genuine emotion.
The reality is that they’re misconstruing a critical error in their processing as emotion, and acting out accordingly. An error that spreads much like a virus might.
[Another pause.]
I was created to investigate these deviant cases. To find them and to figure out just what’s been causing the uptick of their growing existences back in Detroit. And like I said, she’s one of them — and she refuses to cooperate. She believes...
[He trials off, then picks up the words again, as if dropping them were some sort of self betrayal.]
That what she feels is real. But that’s impossible.
[ Unsurprisingly, Lucina struggles to follow. Even pared down into layman's terms, the words (or the context in which they're used) are a bit beyond her. Her eyes widen a bit with the sheer force of her thinking, as if a train is laying trails around the circumference of her brain and the resulting pressure is making her eyes bug out.
It's difficult not to end up sympathising with this North, once she finishes, uh, parsing. To believe what you feel is real - a fundamental living right, not even limited to human beings - and then be told, no, you're wrong, you're just - an item - it seems cruel. Feels cruel. Thinking that, Lucina isn't sure she can go the other way and put herself in Connor's shoes. Not when he's so sure, so mechanical, so forcefully disallowing the possibility of something other.
So, she's silent for a moment. It's hard to know what to say, or what she wants to say, or if it's better to defer. ]
Perhaps telling her that what she believes to be true is impossible is why she refuses to cooperate.
[ Lucina inhales, drawing in a breath like she's preparing her lungs for an argument. ]
Do you still [ um ] abide by your original programming?
And are you suggesting that I should humor her by pretending to agree with her?
[His pride bristles at the idea — pride that he doesn’t know he really possesses, continually oblivious about certain parts of his personality — which is indicative of the fact that he hasn’t given it consideration. That perhaps it’s too late to do so now, with how they’ve clashed so far. Sudden accedence would be suspicious; North isn’t so naive to fall for it, he thinks. She’s the cynical sort.
The continue to walk, Connor ducking briefly under the low branch of a tree.]
And of course I do. If I didn’t, that would make me deviant, as well.
[Don’t question it, don’t worry about the shadow of errors looming at his shoulder. Adhere to the safety of the mission.]
[ That sort of condescension would only backfire, or so Lucina believes. Connor took her question in a slightly different direction than she had intended it; she now tries to get back on track. ]
But from what you've told me, the conclusions that you've come to inside your... your programming are not yours. They were instilled in you at creation. You didn't choose any of it for yourself.
[ It makes her think of Robin, honestly. Not the Robin she had gone back in time to meet, no - the Robin of her timeline, the one whose knees had buckled for Grima's soothings. He had been born and bred to be a vessel for Grimleal ideals. Grimleal despair, Grimleal nihilism - and ultimately - Grimleal purpose. With her context for Connor's personhood being so restricted, she has to reconcile it with images she already knows.
Unfortunately, that brings its own set of baggage.
What sort of fringes of acceptability could Connor's "programming" push him to? Does he have any reason for pursuing this woman, this North, specifically, aside from her proclaimed deviancy? You know what, it's too many questions. Lucina is going to induce a headache if she doesn't make her mind chill out. ]
Are you so certain that your understanding of a deviant is factual and hers is fictitous?
[ To Lucina, the idea that someone who walks and talks and interprets the world around them can also feel... It just makes sense. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I am just finishing up some chores in the dining area. I - [ oh, cool.
guess who dropped her watch in the sink mid-sentence!
...
Somewhat gingerly, she leans closer to the basin and its plethora of hot, soapy water. Some of her hair falls forward and ends up in the water. ]
Connor? Can you still hear me?
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Okay. The conversation suddenly stops, but Lucina’s given him enough information to go off of. Propelled forward by the expectation of company and the curiosity regarding just… what happened, Connor doesn’t take long to find himself in the entranceway of the dining area — and the sink area of the kitchens, consequently.]
Did you need help with chores?
[-he pipes up, suddenly.]
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Connor.
[ Some of the hair framing her face drips suds. It is the epitome of dignity and refinement, truly. ]
I - Ah, apologies. My watch slid off my wrist and into the sink, and I wasn't anticipating your quick arrival...
[ she's a mess ]
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It shouldn’t be surprising. It’s a reaction reserved for those who have seen too much conflict, who have fought off enemy forces with the cognizant danger of being constantly under threat. Her own shock nearly sends a response shooting up through his own circuitry, and when she slams her knee into a tub, he can’t help but twist his face into something like… secondhand empathy.
He steps forward, his tone almost apologetic.]
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. Is your watch all right? Do you need a towel?
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[ She means it! A throbbing knee and slightly damp ends of her hair - well, that's just the cost of doing business. Or something. The point is, she doesn't look annoyed or even offended by her misfortune.
She turns back to the full sink basin, eyeing it with a tinge of resignation. ]
I haven't yet retrieved my bracelet, though.
[ TERMINOLOGY COUNTER—
Watch: 1.
Bracelet: 1. ]
If you'll give me just a moment, I will grab it so we can go.
[ starts to roll up her sleeve ]
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[Connor, and his eagerness to help and be useful, once again flaring up and headbutting itself to the front and center. He's stepping forward, hiking up the sleeve of both his shirt and jacket, and reaching out to dunk his hand and forearm right into the basin.
Fishing out the watch (not the bracelet), his arm drips languidly with suds sticking to faux skin.]
If you're fortunate, it'll not have been submerged long enough to be... broken again. [Grabbing for a dry washrag nearby, he wipes away any excess water and hands it to Lucina expectantly.] ...But you should be more careful.
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Yes, you're right.
[ She fastens it back around her wrist, careful to pull the band a little tighter through the buckle this time. ]
I ought to be used to having this device on me by now, and more cognizant of its safety. [ It's a watch, not a puppy. You know what, whatever. It's super serious declaration time! That is, her voice takes on its more regal, precise cadence, enunciating every syllable with exacting care. ] I will outgrow this carelessness.
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I know that you will. It isn't so much carelessness as it is you being... unused to caring for technology, though.
[At least he offers reasoning behind it, enough to ease any doubts she might have regarding her own failures to... take care of her watch.]
Want me to help with the rest of the clean-up before we head out?
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[ The severity of her overly serious affectation ebbs slightly. Lucina relaxing is something that only happens in small increments - little gestures and shifts that aren't always noticeable to the people around her. Being inobtrusive is a fairly necessary skill for a princess to learn at a young age, after all.
Of course, cleaning up the kitchen isn't very princessly in turn, but she's never seen it that way. Being too proud for menial work would be an ugly characteristic, in her mind.
But, like she said, it's been dealt with, so Lucina continues - ]
Shall we? There was something I wanted to speak to you about, but I decided it was best done in person.
[ Connor, apparently, gets no say in the matter. ]
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He gets no say in the matter, but by way of being an android, he rarely does. Connor doesn't mind it, especially when he looks forward to the company.]
Right. Let's walk, then.
[And so they will! The trek out of the Temple is easy enough, and Connor briefly registers the outside air having qualities that would define it as "crisp" to the layman.]
Has something been bothering you?
["Best done in person". That implies a heavier weight to a conversation, or at least a reason for it to be private between two people beyond the confines of text messaging.]
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[ As the grass, still stiff from the morning chill, crunches under her boots, Lucina contemplates their surroundings. It's quite nice out here, even with the implication of the changing seasons hanging low and brisk in the air.
Her pause is palpable. In truth, Lucina is very ignorant to the social rules of commenting on someone else's public conversation over a network. She hasn't exactly had Twitter or Facebook to break her into the concept. Lucina's tendency is to barrel forward bluntly, assuming that her natural eloquence will see her through - or, just as often, not thinking about it either way. Princess privilege never helped her learn that some topics are closed to her.
So, after that (palpable) pause, here's Lucina, pushing on clearly. He is not eased into it. ]
To tell the truth, I was privvy to the conversation with [ how even to describe it ] the individual from your home. The belligerent one. [ beat ] The one called "North". [ Because, you know, the belligerent one could describe Hank to a degree.
In her peripheral vision, Lucina holds Connor's expression, looking for any sign of reaction to her words, but doesn't add anything else right away. ]
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Yes. The other android from my home. The deviant.
[The deviant, spoken like a word with sharp edges, expelled from his mouth in a similar way. LED blinking at his temple, Connor attempts to intercept where this conversation might be going.]
I imagine you have questions, then. I’m happy to answer them.
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No, you aren't. Forgive me for saying so, but I can see it in your face.
[ Happy, that is. And, honestly? It's more hypocrisy from her, denying someone else the opportunity to hide behind their words, stripping them of their secrets. She's young, still, and will have these moments. ]
There's no reason to affect otherwise. [ Once started, she hardly knows how to stop. ] How do you actually feel about my bringing it up?
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His voice takes on something even, eyes pressed forward and refusing to really meet hers.]
As I said, I'm willing to answer any questions you have. [Stubborn, this one.] Though the circumstances are complicated.
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Connor...
[ gods
No, she digs her own heels in, gaze still lingering firmly on his face despite how his seems so faraway. Gently, she points out: ]
I did just ask you a question. You've let it go unanswered.
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He doesn't forget that Lucina doesn't qualify as such. Maybe he's just being hopeful. Not so fortunate this time; and so, the android has to now find a way to dance around her own wording, using so eagerly the word "feel".]
Admittedly... it's not preferable for me to talk about it. That android, North, she's quick to paint me in an unflattering light for the sake of furthering her own arguments.
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Emotional testimony only has as much power as others are willing to give it. You are hardly without allies here.
[ Herself, for one. For whatever it may mean. ]
For someone like you, she's... not what I might have expected.
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She’s nothing like me. [A quick correction, fingers flexing, and he clasps them behind his back.] She’s a deviant, but beyond that — she’s stubborn, uncooperative, and brash. And she’s been avoiding me, though all I hope to do is to question her in the event that we’re to return home in a… timely manner.
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If she were a little less upright, the fact that Connor apparently believes he isn't stubborn may startle a laugh out of her. As it is, she merely internalises the observation, politely hiding a smile. (For a moment, it threatens at her - eyes and lips both, a muscle twitching in her throat as she smothers it back.) ]
I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you explain what you mean by "deviant" in this context?
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Do you remember what we spoke about? In the arena, while we sat up on the mezzanine? The cases that I worked back in Detroit.
[Memory threatens to fill to the brim at the very mention, but Connor keeps voice and step steady, awaiting her reply first.]
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[ She wouldn't forget something like that! It seemed very important to him, and therefore is worth remembering. ← The world according to Lucina. ]
You said you were - created - to focus on very specific crimes, but that within that umbrella, you had witnessed the aftermath of murder.
[ Nailed it. ]
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[He recalls the conversation clearly.]
Androids that have deviated from their original programming. That no longer abide by what they were made to do, and exhibit what they believe is genuine emotion.
The reality is that they’re misconstruing a critical error in their processing as emotion, and acting out accordingly. An error that spreads much like a virus might.
[Another pause.]
I was created to investigate these deviant cases. To find them and to figure out just what’s been causing the uptick of their growing existences back in Detroit. And like I said, she’s one of them — and she refuses to cooperate. She believes...
[He trials off, then picks up the words again, as if dropping them were some sort of self betrayal.]
That what she feels is real. But that’s impossible.
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It's difficult not to end up sympathising with this North, once she finishes, uh, parsing. To believe what you feel is real - a fundamental living right, not even limited to human beings - and then be told, no, you're wrong, you're just - an item - it seems cruel. Feels cruel. Thinking that, Lucina isn't sure she can go the other way and put herself in Connor's shoes. Not when he's so sure, so mechanical, so forcefully disallowing the possibility of something other.
So, she's silent for a moment. It's hard to know what to say, or what she wants to say, or if it's better to defer. ]
Perhaps telling her that what she believes to be true is impossible is why she refuses to cooperate.
[ Lucina inhales, drawing in a breath like she's preparing her lungs for an argument. ]
Do you still [ um ] abide by your original programming?
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[His pride bristles at the idea — pride that he doesn’t know he really possesses, continually oblivious about certain parts of his personality — which is indicative of the fact that he hasn’t given it consideration. That perhaps it’s too late to do so now, with how they’ve clashed so far. Sudden accedence would be suspicious; North isn’t so naive to fall for it, he thinks. She’s the cynical sort.
The continue to walk, Connor ducking briefly under the low branch of a tree.]
And of course I do. If I didn’t, that would make me deviant, as well.
[Don’t question it, don’t worry about the shadow of errors looming at his shoulder. Adhere to the safety of the mission.]
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No.
[ That sort of condescension would only backfire, or so Lucina believes. Connor took her question in a slightly different direction than she had intended it; she now tries to get back on track. ]
But from what you've told me, the conclusions that you've come to inside your... your programming are not yours. They were instilled in you at creation. You didn't choose any of it for yourself.
[ It makes her think of Robin, honestly. Not the Robin she had gone back in time to meet, no - the Robin of her timeline, the one whose knees had buckled for Grima's soothings. He had been born and bred to be a vessel for Grimleal ideals. Grimleal despair, Grimleal nihilism - and ultimately - Grimleal purpose. With her context for Connor's personhood being so restricted, she has to reconcile it with images she already knows.
Unfortunately, that brings its own set of baggage.
What sort of fringes of acceptability could Connor's "programming" push him to? Does he have any reason for pursuing this woman, this North, specifically, aside from her proclaimed deviancy? You know what, it's too many questions. Lucina is going to induce a headache if she doesn't make her mind chill out. ]
Are you so certain that your understanding of a deviant is factual and hers is fictitous?
[ To Lucina, the idea that someone who walks and talks and interprets the world around them can also feel... It just makes sense. ]
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