00110100

[substandard_parts]

[Inmate Filter | Audio]

As I doubt I'm going to be allowed access to the laboratory any time soon, would someone be so kind as to pass me a light bulb? [One item at a time. He's patient.] They check the common rooms now and I don't like begging for scraps for good behavior. [Because inevitably it doesn't matter, no matter how good you think you behave, people turn on you.]

[Private to Morgana | Audio]

How much have you learned about dancing since you came here?

[Open Spam]

[Lore is searching the hallways of the ship like a rat building a nest. He seems casual as he's walking around, but he's looking for anything- a dropped hairpin. A pencil. A piece of jewelry. A can of cleaner left out. Anything at this point. He's going to keep the irritation from showing on his face, he's just looking curious. Like a robot out discovering the world, or searching for friendly company.]

Comments

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

[He shows up at her room in the nicest scientisty outfit he has (most of what he has are scientists clothes from some era or another at the moment).]

I asked if we could use the jukebox up in the pub. If we move a couple of tables there's plenty of room.

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[Scientisty clothes to her are pretty much just the robe thing that physicians seem to love, so she arches an eyebrow, just a little, at his outfit, but doesn't comment. Maybe it's normal for his time, she has no idea. But she does step out into the hall when he comes, closing the door behind her.]

I've only been in there once. [So basically she'll have to take his word for it.] Jukebox?

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

It plays music. It took some getting used to. [Future tech sometimes makes past tech hard. He wonders if he should offer his arm or something to be polite, but just ends up touching the back of her shoulder to walk along with her.] There's a few songs on there we can use. I think you have a good dress for it. It makes it swirl you turn. [He glances down at her clothes.]

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[She would have taken his arm no problem; the hand on her shoulder makes her flick her eyes toward him, but she doesn't shrug it off. Her attention shifts down toward her skirts at his comment, and she arches one eyebrow at him. She has...one dress, really. She ought to fix that.]

I'm glad my wardrobe suits. [It's a bit dry, but it passes.] And this-- [She plucks at his scientist-y shirt.] Is this typical fare for a tango?

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

Not really. But I don't like asking for things. [He hates it, a lot. Because he feels like anything he gets wrong, even unintentionally, will be taken for ungracious.]

It's typical for a scientist, though.

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[Well she can't fault him for that.] Neither do I. [But mostly because it feels like she must degrade herself to do it.]

A scientist and a dancer. That is impressive.

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

Art, science, literature- I'm not that great at literature, but I'm working on it, a touch of universal domination. I try to be well-versed in everything. [That universal domination bit is enough of a joke to at least be meant as a joke and come with the accompanying smile. He can make light of his situation, even if he hates it.]

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

Particularly the latter. [She knows it's a joke, but it's a little harder to make herself smile at that. The port was hard on her, and the idea of domination is leaving a sour taste in her mouth that she is eager to push away.]

What sort of science? I must seem very...behind, to half the people here.

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

Cybernetics. Which means I make very small machines, basically. A little bit of genetics. [He doesn't seem bothered by her being "behind".] You're not behind. You treat me better than some modern people did [and he means by his time.]

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[She has been given almost no reason to hope for the future. It feels like in ten thousand years, people will still be belittled, feared, reviled, just for being what they are. It makes her shoulders stiffen a little, that old anger at injustice trickling through.]

You must have known some awful people, then. Why should they treat you poorly?

[Spam]

[substandard_parts]

I didn't care what most of them thought, as long as my father still cared about me. Then he decided to placate them, and that's the point that I actually started caring. [In truth, he had been grossly inept and incapable of identifying with people; but not evil.] They said I was bad, so I gave them what they wanted. I proved them right, because they took away my chance to prove them wrong.

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[He always says things that surprise her, that make her realize that they're much more similar than she'd have thought. Morgana reaches for his arm, then, looping hers through his and holding on lightly.]

My father called my kind monsters. I showed him how monstrous I could be. [And there is so much bitterness bundled into those words.] They weren't worth our time. [She almost says affection, but she doesn't want to think about that.]