A brief smile passes over her, more bracing than sweet. The ways in which you might be trapped are multitudinous, and she knows of several.
The way the construct sways draws her back on track, as if it's feeling antsy under scrutiny. She reaches out to pat it on the head, projecting calm.]
Programmed to... [Ceases patting.] Oh, so it's — he's? It's a he, but he's a machine and he doesn't have a soul?
[Okay well damn, her mistake.]
Oh, okay. I think I understand. You made him and he's just a thing that's been made. [Rosamund blows out a breath, and he might catch a shade of disappointment.] I thought he might be like my good friend, just much less talkative.
You're quite smart, though. He's really well made. I can't see any tool marks or nails or anything. He looks like he was made to be on a...a sky ship.
no subject
A brief smile passes over her, more bracing than sweet. The ways in which you might be trapped are multitudinous, and she knows of several.
The way the construct sways draws her back on track, as if it's feeling antsy under scrutiny. She reaches out to pat it on the head, projecting calm.]
Programmed to... [Ceases patting.] Oh, so it's — he's? It's a he, but he's a machine and he doesn't have a soul?
[Okay well damn, her mistake.]
Oh, okay. I think I understand. You made him and he's just a thing that's been made. [Rosamund blows out a breath, and he might catch a shade of disappointment.] I thought he might be like my good friend, just much less talkative.
You're quite smart, though. He's really well made. I can't see any tool marks or nails or anything. He looks like he was made to be on a...a sky ship.