He took the liberty of hacking her previous texts to reflect more appropriate descriptors. "Awful" for example, she'd clearly intended to be "hot", and "painful" was certainly supposed to be "rowdy". If they hadn't yet left her screen she'd likely be pissed; if they had, she'd notice the next time she tried to type them. It'd be damn near impossible to change stop the auto correction from asserting itself like some persnickety AI. His grin gleamed in the reflection of the monitors that sprawled across his wall and desk.
"You haven't laughed, not even once? And he's still bugging you?" Sass's voice piped into his ear. "That is curious."
Oh, she had laughed, all right. Fate grimaced. Even if it had been out of derision--a few times, not every time. But it didn't matter. Sass was wrong about why he'd continued to piggyback on Kreska's tech. And it hadn't been because he was bored, either. Well. It wasn't anymore, and that's what counted in the grand scheme of karmic balance, right?
When he activated the camera on her tablet it wasn't to peek at whatever stripping might have been occurring, but rather to get a view of the ceiling and/or wall for a possible entry point he could extrapolate. Least obtrusive would be the floor, but he didn't figure asking for a view would go over well, so he'd do yet another thing he was good at: calculations.
At first, the room was washed out to such a degree he was certain she'd done something to the lens. But...
Geez. It's like they're sitting under a tiny sun.
>>So is now a good time to ask a personal question?
Regardless of her response, he'd continue undeterred:
>>Is your skin made of LEAVES?
>>It's like a sun exploded in there.
He didn't expect a serious response, particularly as she realized he'd only say something like that if he had eyes on the room and she'd just suggested playing a song that would probably have him murdered at the hands of the next tiny green lady he tried to woo, so he'd head back to his research on sussing out how Jobari Kreska actually was. He wondered how many layers of security and red tape the answer would be buried under, and how many important people it would piss off when he accessed it.
>>I could send a weatherbot.
>>Make it rain on your rat-stripper parade.
>>Which by the way is happening.
>>Bow ties and top hats and nothing else.
>>Leaves like rain, right?
--
Sascha frowned. "If he's got sense your bogie'll be far from this mess anyway. Corporations get involved, the vultures on the edges of the sinkhole tend to get sucked in and drowned so the big boys can climb out."
She shuddered, catching a glimpse of green text scrolling over her wrist and forcing herself not to read another apology. "Good news is that means you'll be in the clear once they aren't...out there."
At least someone's enjoying the bright light, she mused as her companion seemed like she had taken her advice about Fate's tendencies seriously, but was still determined to get a tan. She tucked herself back against the wall and into some of the plantlife, both hoping for shade and that said plantlife wouldn't eat or poison her.
To both communication devices at once came:
>>Oh shit.
>>That's not what I said.
She laughed, and it tasted bitter, edged by the tangy scent of menthol. "If he were that concerned with my 'princess' status, he would've rescued me from the dragon in the tower. Instead of letting it blow up half of Osiris."
With a shake of her head she grinned and let her ire at that particular suggestion go. Fate had been running from Enforcement as fast as she had, and whether or not he could have commed her at any time didn't have any bearing on his ability to tackle interference on a rescue. "It'd be a waste of fabric. And I'd shred it to fraggin' hell. Stripper outfit would last longer at that rate. But so long as the gown comes with sunglasses and that liquor's legit though, I'll just sit here and enjoy my vacation."
"You haven't laughed, not even once? And he's still bugging you?" Sass's voice piped into his ear. "That is curious."
Oh, she had laughed, all right. Fate grimaced. Even if it had been out of derision--a few times, not every time. But it didn't matter. Sass was wrong about why he'd continued to piggyback on Kreska's tech. And it hadn't been because he was bored, either. Well. It wasn't anymore, and that's what counted in the grand scheme of karmic balance, right?
When he activated the camera on her tablet it wasn't to peek at whatever stripping might have been occurring, but rather to get a view of the ceiling and/or wall for a possible entry point he could extrapolate. Least obtrusive would be the floor, but he didn't figure asking for a view would go over well, so he'd do yet another thing he was good at: calculations.
At first, the room was washed out to such a degree he was certain she'd done something to the lens. But...
Geez. It's like they're sitting under a tiny sun.
>>So is now a good time to ask a personal question?
Regardless of her response, he'd continue undeterred:
>>Is your skin made of LEAVES?
>>It's like a sun exploded in there.
He didn't expect a serious response, particularly as she realized he'd only say something like that if he had eyes on the room and she'd just suggested playing a song that would probably have him murdered at the hands of the next tiny green lady he tried to woo, so he'd head back to his research on sussing out how Jobari Kreska actually was. He wondered how many layers of security and red tape the answer would be buried under, and how many important people it would piss off when he accessed it.
>>I could send a weatherbot.
>>Make it rain on your rat-stripper parade.
>>Which by the way is happening.
>>Bow ties and top hats and nothing else.
>>Leaves like rain, right?
--
Sascha frowned. "If he's got sense your bogie'll be far from this mess anyway. Corporations get involved, the vultures on the edges of the sinkhole tend to get sucked in and drowned so the big boys can climb out."
She shuddered, catching a glimpse of green text scrolling over her wrist and forcing herself not to read another apology. "Good news is that means you'll be in the clear once they aren't...out there."
At least someone's enjoying the bright light, she mused as her companion seemed like she had taken her advice about Fate's tendencies seriously, but was still determined to get a tan. She tucked herself back against the wall and into some of the plantlife, both hoping for shade and that said plantlife wouldn't eat or poison her.
To both communication devices at once came:
>>Oh shit.
>>That's not what I said.
She laughed, and it tasted bitter, edged by the tangy scent of menthol. "If he were that concerned with my 'princess' status, he would've rescued me from the dragon in the tower. Instead of letting it blow up half of Osiris."
With a shake of her head she grinned and let her ire at that particular suggestion go. Fate had been running from Enforcement as fast as she had, and whether or not he could have commed her at any time didn't have any bearing on his ability to tackle interference on a rescue. "It'd be a waste of fabric. And I'd shred it to fraggin' hell. Stripper outfit would last longer at that rate. But so long as the gown comes with sunglasses and that liquor's legit though, I'll just sit here and enjoy my vacation."
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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