abandonware | i n [B] o x . // acata.

[Her fingers twist in the fabric. The distance he creates helps, though his words do not. She is angry, but also ashamed, forced to recognize the damage she's inflicted on herself, and upset at being reminded of it.

It would be easier to fight him, though programmed guilt would turn her insides out as soon as she tried. Instead though, she says something else.]

There's no point to fixing me. I'm not even supposed to be in operation. [Alive.] I should have died a long time ago.

But it makes you happy to think you're helping, right? So whatever.

[She keeps her gaze on him, this time.]

Something dark. Those are the colors I used to wear.

[ maybe, had he been younger, he'd flinch and protest accordingly. instead, he stares unblinkingly — he thinks it's a little laughable how little she understands the people she claims to serve.

but it's not as though he was truly human, anyways.

he doesn't know how to tell her that nothing will make him happy, really. nothing beyond violence, and brutality and blood. everything was gone. that included himself.

but these would all be vindictive and cruel things to say, and while he is both of those things, she did not deserve to be burdened with that knowledge.

so instead, he meets her gaze. ]

But you didn't.

And so long as you're alive, you have an obligation to take care of yourself — unless you want someone else to do it for you. If that's the case, you might be stuck with me forever.

It'd be nice to avoid that, wouldn't it?

[ his features soften at her answer. ]

Got it.

[ ... ]

The undershirt — I don't need it. You can keep it.

[She holds his stare for a while longer, her eyes flat and assessing in the way they are when she is sizing someone, or something up, and then the moment passes again, as it tends to, into uneasy peace.]

I don't need you to take care of me.

[Her gaze shifts away.]

And this shirt's too big. I don't need it either.

[She's quiet for a moment.

Then, she sighs.]

...It's your shirt, isn't it.

[ he holds his arms, holding her gaze in turn. his features harden. ]

Then start taking care of yourself for once. I might finally back off once you do.

[ and then there's a crease in his brow. ]

Yeah. Not sure what you expected. I'm not really in the business of stealing other peoples' shirts. I don't need this one though — it's what I wear when I go to sleep, and you don't look half bad in it.

[ wow.

that definitely did not come out like he intended for it to. ]

I mean, it looks nice on you. That's all. I just don't want your skin taking any more damage than it already has.

Edited (i can read) 2018-10-21 05:13 (UTC)

[She bristles, visibly, and is right on the verge of telling him to mind his own goddamn business —

but then he says that and she's just like

The silence edges right there on uncomfortable, and then she looks away again, tugs off the heavier shirt, and tosses it in the general direction of his face.]

Fine! I'll keep it if you leave me alone.

[ she's notably short, so it smacks right against the space that separates his collarbone from his chest instead. it elicits the same effect though — he blinks slowly, not sure of what to say. ]

If I offended you, you can just tell me.

[ anyways, he slips his shirt back on rather nonchalantly, as though nothing particularly strange has occurred in these past 20 minutes or so. ]

Yeah, sure. But can you at least try to spend time with other people? You don't have to be alone here.

I'm not offended. You're just irritating.

[She sounds almost exhausted saying it, like it should be obvious.] I've been fine on my own for all this time. There are too many people around here, anyway.

Being fine and being happy are two different things.

[ she's so content to do nothing but survive, and do nothing more. how sad, he thinks. with a shrug of the shoulders, nier turns around a few degrees, moving to leave. he raises a hand to say goodbye. ]

See you later, A2. Thanks for letting me see you. It was nice to talk with you for a bit.

[ nice is certainly one way of putting it, but the sentiment is earnest enough.

maybe one day, she'll acknowledge that she's more than a tool — he thinks that wistfully, like a dream whisking away into the air.

and with his only his back in sight, he takes his leave accordingly. ]

i n [B] o x . // acata.

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