[This deviant-hunting android isn't really just in one spot for very long. From one place to another, aiding those who are sick; he does what he can, and the easiest way to find him is to stand in a corridor and hope that he'll cross one's path.
And that's exactly where she'll find him, purposefully walking down one of the halls, but not in such a hurry that it's anything pressing. In fact, he easily stops when she requests his attention, always willing to aid a familiar face.]
Lucina. It's good to see you again.
[And... ah. That cough. That makes his brow tighten.]
...Of course. What can I do for you?
[Ever the helpful android, he's eager to see if she needs assistance regarding the state of her health.]
[ Fortunately, the thing Lucina needs help with has nothing to do with her health! That isn't to say she's not sounding rather dire, because she definitely is. It seems like every individual word she utters needs to be punctuated by a dry, rasping cough - or two, or three, or six. ]
My, uh - the bracelet, the watch - [ cough ] - fell into some water and now it no longer responds to my touch.
[ The betting pool is now closed; it took her less than a week to destroy her smart watch.
At the end of her cough-riddled little request, the tickle in her throat has grown into something monstrous that needs to be expunged. The resulting hacking sound, the battle cry of this cough-wheeze chimera, is disgusting.
At least she's polite enough to turn her face away from him, burying it in her elbow instead. ]
[It’s admittedly not what he expected. Not that someone having broken their watch so short into their stay was surprising (honestly, he suspects she’s likely not the only one), but that it has to do with the watch at all seems… negligible compared to that coughing he’s hearing. The slow reply, almost uncertain, is indicative of this.]
…Of course. Let me see the device and I’ll return it to you once I can find a solution.
[However.]
But Lucina, maybe consider that your watch is the least of your concerns right now. Your cough sounds worrying.
[He's not disgusted. He's experienced worse than hearing nasty coughs in his short lifetime.]
[ What is this utter nonsense, Connor. Lords do not get sick! That's why they're in the Lord class. Pleasantly, she shakes her head - her throat, for the moment, is reasonably clear and her coughing has temporarily subsided. Her voice is still a bit raspy, however. ]
I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine.
[ There's like a 70% chance she'll die. However, since whether or not Lucina can even count that high is up in the air, she busies herself undoing the clasp of her watch. ]
[If he were a bit more self-aware, he’d note that she sounds like him. “I’ll be fine”, when things probably aren’t fine. 70% of terrible space flu death is not a good thing, Lord or otherwise. Lucina!!
But he waits for her to undo the watch, and will gladly pocket it gingerly once he takes it. Connor nods, but his attention is obviously not very much focused on the watch itself, not quite yet.]
I think so. If not, I know a few who might be willing to help me.
[That is, if they’re not dying of space flu, too.]
…Walk with me for a moment, Lucina? If you don’t mind, please.
[ She notes it plainly, although without much judgment. He's aroused her curiosity, if nothing else. Lucina can't actually imagine what he wants, given her overall lack of understanding regarding Connor's... anything. ]
Alright, let's walk.
[ Such trusting agreement! Can she remain blissfully indifferent? ]
There’s somewhere that I strongly recommend that we go for now, yes.
[Perhaps he’s purposefully not doling out the required amount of information in that sneakily subtle way of his. But if she follows — because Connor will be heading in one direction down the hallway without preamble, now — she will soon be able to parse based on their route that they’re heading towards the kitchen.
His request as they enter is polite but clear:]
Will you sit at the table, please?
[The tiny wooden table big enough to seat two nearby.]
[ Lucina lingers at the edge of the table. Still standing, her hands rest lightly on its surface. Her gaze, topped by a quizzically furrowed brow, follows him as he moves about the room. ]
Connor, what is this about?
[ ...The muscles in her neck tremble as she suppresses another cough.
Connor notes how she doesn’t sit, pausing mid-reach as he’s gone for a cupboard and an empty mug. A brow is raised gently in her direction, and his tone becomes an easing thing — as if he’s gone into negotiator mode, wrapped up in polite amicability.]
I’m going to make you some tea for your throat. Please, like I said, sit.
[ She's a little embarrassed by his kindness, in truth - and the fact that he feels the need to tend to her in such a way. That said, she doesn't really have the wherewithal to refuse his gentle order. Sitting sounds nice. Nicer than standing, certainly. Gravity is beginning to exert more than its typical amount of pull on her.
So, she sits, finally allowing herself to look a little tired. ]
Thank you.
[ Rubbing at her face a little, she adds, ] Milk and no sugar, please.
[And though his social subroutines that have kicked into gear — that are keeping him smiling faintly, polite and at ease — there’s still something that drains from him as Lucina decides to sit. Tension, maybe, minute and barely-there, dissipating by small degrees.]
While I understand that humans and other organics are probably tired of hearing me say this—
[He turns and continues to gather up items to prep the tea. Ceramics clink gently.]
—it would still be remiss for me not to repeat myself. And that’s the fact that you shouldn’t push yourself and pretend you’re feeling fine, if you’re not.
[ (All she wanted was for him to fix her bracelet...)
Lucina's breathing is a bit laboured but that's entirely due to the effort she's making trying not to cough again. As parched and scratchy as her throat is feeling, there's still the faint sensation - again - like something ought to be expelled from there. It's deeply uncomfortable.
There's also part of her that repels this idea that she's disadvantaged, that she needs help or inordinary care, that she can't operate at her usual level... That it's someone else making her tea, and not the other way around.
To put it simply, Lucina feels like a failure of a princess! Because she caught a small cold!
...Connor may have his work cut out for him here. ]
I - I suppose you're right. I am rather unused to the idea of not having to push through whatever may ail me.
[A response that's taken to heart, as the saying goes. Connor's relatively quiet for all of two seconds, turning this over in his head. At some point the hot water is poured to allow the tea to steep in the mug, which begins to gently flood the kitchen with the musky-sweet scent of chamomile.]
We haven't known each other long, and yet hearing you say that doesn't surprise me. [A beat, and he turns his head to look at her, smiling almost apologetically.] You seem to have a very [stubborn] strong personality, Lucina. The kind that likes to push through adversity. Am I correct?
[Connor is ironically similar, it just manifests in different ways.]
[ It is slightly discomfitting, having him sum her up in a few simple and short sentences. Like a throbbing pain right below the flesh of her forehead, the discomfort is far more potent than any possible pain the situation may foster. Lucina still only barely understands what an android is (if someone said to her, "like the watch, but human-shaped", a lot of time may be saved) but there is a bluntness to his manner that borders on mechanical. Not cold, not - not rigid, not even unfriendly... but unsubtle, distinctly so. Factual. She's thinking of him less and less like Laurent and more like his own - odd - person.
She resists squirming like a child expecting discipline. Somehow. ]
To tell the truth, I'm not sure I ever thought about it in such a way. There's always one more thing that needs doing, that's all.
[ One more person to help. One more world to hold together. It's never over to the people who were in the eye of it.
Is it any wonder she refuses to give her illness succor? ]
[He clarifies only after he adheres completely to her request; no sugar in her tea, but a small glass container of milk is fetched from cool storage and briefly poured. Connor mixes it together gently with a small tea spoon (look at how practiced he is at this now!), and then looks at her as he stirs.]
What keeps you so busy back in your world, I mean. Because I understand the sentiment; I'm also the kind that prefers constant movement, constant stimulation. A problem to always solve.
[ Of course she doesn't mind. Lucina does prepare herself to tell a streamlined version of the truth, though. He knows some broad strokes - decay, the abolition of art and culture - but going into too much detail when she's feeling, uh, compromised by allergies... Well, it would just be too much for her right now. ]
My father was - apologies, he is - the Exalt of our nation, Ylisse. I suppose king may be a more familiar term. He inherited the stewardship of the ruling house at a young age.
As his heir, I have numerous responsibilities.
[ There. Neat, tidy. No mention of time travel or undead wearing the face of their soldiers. Not a single word about her babyself.
[Neat and tidy, indeed, and unfortunately, Connor knows nothing of her situation except what she’s just told him. Has nothing to infer that there might be more to her life than what the duties of someone who’s basically royalty might imply. Fair enough, as far as that’s concerned.
Except…]
I imagine the responsibilities are numerous for one of your position.
[Except. He does remember their first meeting; hard to forget a lingering first impression much like that one.]
Not to mention what I can only assume are perceived problems concerning the… undead?
[To accentuate this polite-bluntness that is part and parcel of who Connor is, he walks forward and places the steaming tea neatly in front of her There ya go, Lucina.]
[ Damn him and his exacting memory! Well, Lucina isn't quite so condemning with it, in truth - she turns her exasperation inward. It's her own fault for making such a slip in the first place. Looking slightly ill at ease, she doesn't reach for the tea quite yet. ]
That is not a battle I need to fight any longer.
[ The rasp in her voice only grows the more she speaks. By now, the coughs are hiccuping their way out of her chest whether she allows them or not. ]
[A moment of silence, and when met with an obvious declaration of “I don’t want to talk about it”, Connor won’t push the subject. He only pries if the other lets him, or they aren't blunt about an avenue of conversation that they’d rather not traverse.
So, then, an apology flits up in the operations of his mind.]
Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.
[Connor gestures a little at the empty seat across from her, his tone laced with something apologetic.]
May I sit with you?
Sorry for the delay! I was having internet trouble.
[ Lucina straightens a bit. Connor's curiosity is not something to condemn him for, certainly - and she had not intended her words to come out quite so withering. It had simply contributed to the fog in her head and the dry moss in her throat that she can't swallow her way around. Rather than address his apology, she tries to push forward, to let him know she isn't offended. ]
Of course you may. I'd be -
[ cough ]
I -
[ cough wheeze cough oH GODS IT'S ALIVE ]
I'd be glad of -
[ did we mention she's fucking coughing
By now, it seems that the mere act of opening her mouth exacerbates whatever is irritating her windpipes to the point of trying to evacuate themselves. Instead of finishing her sentence, Lucina gives up and reaches for her tea. A few steady gulps to warm her throat and flush her cheeks, and - oh! It's delicious! ]
...Sorry.
MY TURN TO APOLOGIZE i lost this notif?? i'm so sorry
[Connor sits when permission has been given, and he's ready to listen to what she has to say... when the coughing fit rears its ugly head.
He wants to suggest that she drink her tea when she beats him to it. Connor is patient, though his brow is furrowed with clear concern, when he finally speaks.]
Don't apologize but... that cough doesn't sound very tame. I suggest that you take the remainder of the day to rest.
[ - don't need to rest, she's about to say... but reconsiders at the last second. The protest dies on her tongue, as it should. Her paranoia that something untoward will occur the moment she closes her eyes is unfounded here. ]
I will. Once I'm finished my tea.
[ She'll - she'll use the weapon of sleep to vanquish this ostensible illness! Yeah. ]
Are you able to fall ill? You seem remarkably steady in comparison to everyone else.
[Better than her walking around and getting worse! Rest will strengthen her body to fight back whatever’s at her heels — he just hopes it’ll be enough.
Her reply is acceptable, at least, seen in the way his shoulders relax. He nods, glad for it, then tends to her question.]
No. At least, I never have been sick; it’s hard to say what rules apply in this world, or any of the others that we visit, but a synthetic creation like myself can’t house illness.
That's how it was back in Detroit. The case seems similar here.
[ "Synthetic creation," he says, in reference to himself; Lucina's eyes widen for a brief second before settling back to their usual size. She may be reaching the point where she just isn't questioning how he self-describes just because it doesn't make sense to her.
Just kidding, she may never get to that point. ]
I don't understand. You refer to yourself as synthetic, but -
[ He talks. He moves. He processes and interprets information in real time and interacts with the world around him. She can't quite put it in such neat terms, but her argument is largely the same. He talks about himself like a product but behaves like a realised individual. ]
...You do not seem like it to me.
Connor, are you sure you're not mistaken?
[ She takes a sip of tea, coughs while doing so, sputters it back up, and sighs. ]
[Mistaken? He's never been asked that before. Because, well, he's pretty darn sure he's an android and not an organic being. Lucina, he doesn't need another existential crisis on his plate.]
Why would I be mistaken? I know what I am. Maybe I don't fully understand the question?
[No judgment on the tea sputtering. Take your time, girl, you need that for your throat.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And that's exactly where she'll find him, purposefully walking down one of the halls, but not in such a hurry that it's anything pressing. In fact, he easily stops when she requests his attention, always willing to aid a familiar face.]
Lucina. It's good to see you again.
[And... ah. That cough. That makes his brow tighten.]
...Of course. What can I do for you?
[Ever the helpful android, he's eager to see if she needs assistance regarding the state of her health.]
no subject
My, uh - the bracelet, the watch - [ cough ] - fell into some water and now it no longer responds to my touch.
[ The betting pool is now closed; it took her less than a week to destroy her smart watch.
At the end of her cough-riddled little request, the tickle in her throat has grown into something monstrous that needs to be expunged. The resulting hacking sound, the battle cry of this cough-wheeze chimera, is disgusting.
At least she's polite enough to turn her face away from him, burying it in her elbow instead. ]
no subject
…Of course. Let me see the device and I’ll return it to you once I can find a solution.
[However.]
But Lucina, maybe consider that your watch is the least of your concerns right now. Your cough sounds worrying.
[He's not disgusted. He's experienced worse than hearing nasty coughs in his short lifetime.]
no subject
I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine.
[ There's like a 70% chance she'll die. However, since whether or not Lucina can even count that high is up in the air, she busies herself undoing the clasp of her watch. ]
Do you believe you can restore it?
no subject
But he waits for her to undo the watch, and will gladly pocket it gingerly once he takes it. Connor nods, but his attention is obviously not very much focused on the watch itself, not quite yet.]
I think so. If not, I know a few who might be willing to help me.
[That is, if they’re not dying of space flu, too.]
…Walk with me for a moment, Lucina? If you don’t mind, please.
no subject
[ She notes it plainly, although without much judgment. He's aroused her curiosity, if nothing else. Lucina can't actually imagine what he wants, given her overall lack of understanding regarding Connor's... anything. ]
Alright, let's walk.
[ Such trusting agreement! Can she remain blissfully indifferent? ]
...
[ No, she can't. ]
Is there somewhere we need to go?
no subject
[Perhaps he’s purposefully not doling out the required amount of information in that sneakily subtle way of his. But if she follows — because Connor will be heading in one direction down the hallway without preamble, now — she will soon be able to parse based on their route that they’re heading towards the kitchen.
His request as they enter is polite but clear:]
Will you sit at the table, please?
[The tiny wooden table big enough to seat two nearby.]
no subject
Connor, what is this about?
[ ...The muscles in her neck tremble as she suppresses another cough.
Still not sick, though. ]
no subject
Connor notes how she doesn’t sit, pausing mid-reach as he’s gone for a cupboard and an empty mug. A brow is raised gently in her direction, and his tone becomes an easing thing — as if he’s gone into negotiator mode, wrapped up in polite amicability.]
I’m going to make you some tea for your throat. Please, like I said, sit.
no subject
So, she sits, finally allowing herself to look a little tired. ]
Thank you.
[ Rubbing at her face a little, she adds, ] Milk and no sugar, please.
no subject
[And though his social subroutines that have kicked into gear — that are keeping him smiling faintly, polite and at ease — there’s still something that drains from him as Lucina decides to sit. Tension, maybe, minute and barely-there, dissipating by small degrees.]
While I understand that humans and other organics are probably tired of hearing me say this—
[He turns and continues to gather up items to prep the tea. Ceramics clink gently.]
—it would still be remiss for me not to repeat myself. And that’s the fact that you shouldn’t push yourself and pretend you’re feeling fine, if you’re not.
no subject
Lucina's breathing is a bit laboured but that's entirely due to the effort she's making trying not to cough again. As parched and scratchy as her throat is feeling, there's still the faint sensation - again - like something ought to be expelled from there. It's deeply uncomfortable.
There's also part of her that repels this idea that she's disadvantaged, that she needs help or inordinary care, that she can't operate at her usual level... That it's someone else making her tea, and not the other way around.
To put it simply, Lucina feels like a failure of a princess! Because she caught a small cold!
...Connor may have his work cut out for him here. ]
I - I suppose you're right. I am rather unused to the idea of not having to push through whatever may ail me.
no subject
We haven't known each other long, and yet hearing you say that doesn't surprise me. [A beat, and he turns his head to look at her, smiling almost apologetically.] You seem to have a very [stubborn] strong personality, Lucina. The kind that likes to push through adversity. Am I correct?
[Connor is ironically similar, it just manifests in different ways.]
no subject
She resists squirming like a child expecting discipline. Somehow. ]
To tell the truth, I'm not sure I ever thought about it in such a way. There's always one more thing that needs doing, that's all.
[ One more person to help. One more world to hold together. It's never over to the people who were in the eye of it.
Is it any wonder she refuses to give her illness succor? ]
no subject
[He clarifies only after he adheres completely to her request; no sugar in her tea, but a small glass container of milk is fetched from cool storage and briefly poured. Connor mixes it together gently with a small tea spoon (look at how practiced he is at this now!), and then looks at her as he stirs.]
What keeps you so busy back in your world, I mean. Because I understand the sentiment; I'm also the kind that prefers constant movement, constant stimulation. A problem to always solve.
no subject
My father was - apologies, he is - the Exalt of our nation, Ylisse. I suppose king may be a more familiar term. He inherited the stewardship of the ruling house at a young age.
As his heir, I have numerous responsibilities.
[ There. Neat, tidy. No mention of time travel or undead wearing the face of their soldiers. Not a single word about her babyself.
As they say, ka-kow. ]
no subject
Except…]
I imagine the responsibilities are numerous for one of your position.
[Except. He does remember their first meeting; hard to forget a lingering first impression much like that one.]
Not to mention what I can only assume are perceived problems concerning the… undead?
[To accentuate this polite-bluntness that is part and parcel of who Connor is, he walks forward and places the steaming tea neatly in front of her There ya go, Lucina.]
no subject
That is not a battle I need to fight any longer.
[ The rasp in her voice only grows the more she speaks. By now, the coughs are hiccuping their way out of her chest whether she allows them or not. ]
Can we not leave it at that?
no subject
So, then, an apology flits up in the operations of his mind.]
Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.
[Connor gestures a little at the empty seat across from her, his tone laced with something apologetic.]
May I sit with you?
Sorry for the delay! I was having internet trouble.
Of course you may. I'd be -
[ cough ]
I -
[ cough wheeze cough oH GODS IT'S ALIVE ]
I'd be glad of -
[ did we mention she's fucking coughing
By now, it seems that the mere act of opening her mouth exacerbates whatever is irritating her windpipes to the point of trying to evacuate themselves. Instead of finishing her sentence, Lucina gives up and reaches for her tea. A few steady gulps to warm her throat and flush her cheeks, and - oh! It's delicious! ]
...Sorry.
MY TURN TO APOLOGIZE i lost this notif?? i'm so sorry
He wants to suggest that she drink her tea when she beats him to it. Connor is patient, though his brow is furrowed with clear concern, when he finally speaks.]
Don't apologize but... that cough doesn't sound very tame. I suggest that you take the remainder of the day to rest.
inexcusable tbh
[ - don't need to rest, she's about to say... but reconsiders at the last second. The protest dies on her tongue, as it should. Her paranoia that something untoward will occur the moment she closes her eyes is unfounded here. ]
I will. Once I'm finished my tea.
[ She'll - she'll use the weapon of sleep to vanquish this ostensible illness! Yeah. ]
Are you able to fall ill? You seem remarkably steady in comparison to everyone else.
;-;
Her reply is acceptable, at least, seen in the way his shoulders relax. He nods, glad for it, then tends to her question.]
No. At least, I never have been sick; it’s hard to say what rules apply in this world, or any of the others that we visit, but a synthetic creation like myself can’t house illness.
That's how it was back in Detroit. The case seems similar here.
❤
Just kidding, she may never get to that point. ]
I don't understand. You refer to yourself as synthetic, but -
[ He talks. He moves. He processes and interprets information in real time and interacts with the world around him. She can't quite put it in such neat terms, but her argument is largely the same. He talks about himself like a product but behaves like a realised individual. ]
...You do not seem like it to me.
Connor, are you sure you're not mistaken?
[ She takes a sip of tea, coughs while doing so, sputters it back up, and sighs. ]
no subject
[Mistaken? He's never been asked that before. Because, well, he's pretty darn sure he's an android and not an organic being. Lucina, he doesn't need another existential crisis on his plate.]
Why would I be mistaken? I know what I am. Maybe I don't fully understand the question?
[No judgment on the tea sputtering. Take your time, girl, you need that for your throat.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)