Mask or Menance IC Contact Post

[failureisntachoice]

[ An automated voice speaks because someone hasn't bothered to set up a proper voicemail. The only part in her voice is her name. ] You have reached Agent Texas. Leave a message at the tone.

Comments

[dendarii]

[ It's reasonably expensive. Miles worked a hell of a lot of charm on all the parties responsible for this meal. ]

Why wouldn't I? It sets the tone, doesn't it?

[failureisntachoice]

[ And she didn't even need to con him into spending money on her. Unlike a certain AI she could mention. She could get used to this. ]

You barely know me. [ Granted he knows more than many others here do. She holds the wine out for him. ] You want to do the honors?

[dendarii]

That's the idea. I want to. [ He gladly moves to get it open for the both of them. ] Not so crass as payment, but an exchange all the same, don't you think?

[failureisntachoice]

[ She manages to find the glasses he brought and holds them out. If he went through the trouble of getting a nice bottle of wine, they should start with that. ]

For more information?

[dendarii]

For the pleasure of getting to know you a little better.

[ He fills both glasses, returning the bottle to its bucket afterwards. ]

[failureisntachoice]

I told you quite a bit last time. [ She keeps one glass held out for him and takes a sip from her own glass with an approving nod. Not bad.

Despite her offer to share more, she's not going to start the conversation. Instead she focuses her gaze out on the water and once a hand is free, she leans back on her palm. ] How often did you go planetside?

[dendarii]

[ There's no pennies today; Miles doesn't mind the conversation flowing in his direction. Part of getting to know her is letting her get to know him too. He takes a slow, careful sip. ]

As often as I could. Sometimes for long stretches - like the prison I was in. There is ... nothing quite like it, no matter how long I spend on a spaceship.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She glances over him at the mention of a prison. Likely the one he and his friend were in before they both helped each other out. There's a nod of agreement and she has another drink. ]

This is my first time on Earth. I've been on planets and was technically born here, but I never stepped foot on it until I walked through their damn porter. [ If her memories of a previous life could even be called being 'born.' It's close enough. ]

[dendarii]

[ Ah. He catches that - wonders, and decides to ask. ]

Do you mean you yourself? Or are you referring to your progenitor?

[failureisntachoice]

Progenitor. If we're talking about me, I was created on a ship. Not nearly as nice.

[dendarii]

Compared to a planet, likely not ...

[ He looks her over lightly. ]

You said you were an AI, yes? ... Do they typically have bodies in your world?

[failureisntachoice]

No. Most of them are holograms installed into a computer. If they have a body, it's definitely not a nice looking one like this. [ She motions down at herself with her glass. ]

The body I had back home looked like a walking suit of armor.

[dendarii]

[ Miles pictures her as a walking suit of armor. His pleased expression really doesn't change. ]

A bit more practical not being in armor, I suppose. But you lose points in ferocity.

[failureisntachoice]

Makes it a helluva lot easier to blend in like this. [ It's a big reason she doesn't wear her armor out and about. ] People before me wearing similar suits made it more conspicuous than it should to be walking around civilians like that.

[ And somehow spawned a character dubbed 'Armor Guy.' Out of those who were here before her, she has a feeling she knows who spawned it. ]

[dendarii]

[ He nods for a moment, considering. ]

Seeing as how you were part of a military operation.

[failureisntachoice]

Yeah. [ She swirls her wine glass for a moment before reaching to poke at some of the food he's laid out. ] You know I technically don't need any of this, right?

[ He clearly remembers she's an AI. Yet he brought a nice spread of food and wine. ]

[dendarii]

[ Very simply: ]

Do you enjoy it?

[failureisntachoice]

[ That's... Not the response she was expecting and she gives him an odd look. ]

I brought a bottle of whiskey with me, didn't I?

[dendarii]

You did. So, I presume the answer to that question is yes.

[ He arches his brows a bit, as if to say, "well is it?" ]

[failureisntachoice]

[ She snorts and focuses her gaze on the slow-moving tides. ] Yeah, it is. Just... Unexpected.

[dendarii]

[ A faint shrug in return. He takes a larger swig of wine himself, swirling it around in the glass afterwards. ]

If food were purely for nutrition, we'd all eat rat bars morning, noon, and night. You're just lucky enough to have one fewer physical requirement.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She nudges him lightly with her elbow. Lighter than she normally would given how fragile he is. ]

Rat bars? Do I want to know how terrible food has gotten six hundred years in the future? And I thought our MREs were bad.

[dendarii]

[ He grins in response. Doesn't even wince. ]

Imagine an MRE stripped down to just the meat, packed with all the nutrition of the rest of the meal. And tasting faintly of the rest of it all in one hideous package.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She wrinkles her nose in disgust. ]

Remind me of that if I ever bitch about the food here. That doesn't ruin troop morale?

[dendarii]

Oh, probably. But there's few other options in space, and everyone prefers them to starving. Once you get used to them they're just ... fuel.