have at you!

“Hey, that’s not half bad!”

“Wha… You again? You know what ‘erasure’ means, right? It means no more memories — and no more you! I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not risk having my entire existence erased…”

How could someone as nice as Gooigi come from someone as slimy as this? She doesn’t quite get it, but she knows one thing: that mask isn’t fooling her anymore.

No more memories? Already dealing with that one, thank you very much. No more him? ...well, Mr. L’s a little less ambivalent about that. He doesn’t want to die.

“Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, the people who kidnapped all of us are lying about NULL not helping us escape. You don’t look dumb enough to believe everything they tell us, but appearances can be deceiving.”

And maybe, even if NULL does end up wiping this place off the map, something like that would make the count finally sit up and take notice and pluck Mr. L out from the nothingness.

...or maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Mr. L would rather see himself vanish for the sake of Count Bleck’s perfect world than let himself rot here for who-knows-how-long because everyone else on the island has developed a sudden inexplicable fondness for their captors.

“Yes. He is very kind,” He was so kind to take the kitty and care for it AND even followed her home so she could get some clothes to wear. Such a kind android. Makes her want to know more about him, really. 

“What is he like then if he’s not like me?” Questions are rising and she wants answers. She hopes he’ll give her what she wants otherwise curiosity will just keep eating away at her! “I don’t know how coffee will affect me.” She’s thinking about it though. She IS curious of what coffee tastes like. She does enjoy the smell of it. That’s something she knows for sure.

“I’m not a kid,” Even if she had the appearance of one, “I’m not sure how old I am. I was asleep for a hundred years and some change, I think. I’ve been alive for a few years before my slumber…” In other words it’s very complicated,  “How old are you?”

“He’s great! Not that you’re not great, too. He’s just not made the same way. He doesn’t talk or anything, but he’s packed full of weapons and charm!” Mr. L doesn’t elaborate further on their differences. He knows that Brobot doesn’t need a complex AI or human-like behavior to be the best brother in the world, but he also knows that most people don’t fully understand that, and he doesn’t want his new acquaintance looking down on his robot for lacking personality.

“I don’t want to gum up your works... have you ingested anything organic before?”

Not a child? Hm. He’s not sure he believes her, even with her explanation. Even if she’s technically existed for a hundred years, how much personal growth can a person go through if they’re asleep the whole time?

By those standards, though, maybe Mr. L’s not an adult, either.

“Sure, kid. How did you end up asleep? ...and that would make your inventor some hundred-year-old-plus geezer, then?” Or, more likely, it would make them dead. Mr. L belatedly wonders if bringing up her creator was insensitive. ...at least she’s offered him a way to easily change the subject:

a single eyebrow raised at the fearless nature of the stranger. insults do not easily reach the king, WRATHFUL he may be, but not a man of blind rage. he notices the pocketing of his device, keen eyes of the thief king that he is, but ganondorf is calm and patient; if he wished to take it back, he WOULD. and perhaps he may still want to yet.

a snort, this man not so different from a little dog. insignificant compared to the demon king and his might, SURELY! not so foolish as to blindly disregard the small - oh how the hero of winds has taught him to be AWARE of the little ones - but gods above he won’t allow these minuscule attempts at bullying nettle his spirit. he leans forward, ever so slightly, a subtle flex of fingers —- you will know my name and FEAR IT, foul wretch.

❝how quaint it is that you’re so DESPERATE to be on the receiving end of my wrath, you little green thief,❞ he responds, making it known that he is aware of the stranger’s impudence. a scowl becomes a sneer, teeth bared like the PREDATOR he is. green; what an unfortunate colour. ❝i simply found no use for it — taking out the trash, as some would say.❞

a half truth, he hopes his bluff would be received or at least considered. ganondorf doubts that he will ever find many uses for the phone, for he cares not about social graces, and yet, it is true that technology is WELL BEYOND his grasp as well. would he care to use his phone if he knew how? a CURIOUS thought.

Maybe this stranger isn’t as similar to that hero as Mr. L thought; in all of their exchanges of insults and taunts, Mr. L has never heard the king speak with such eloquence and airs.

He rolls his eyes behind his mask. Who does this guy think he’s fooling?

“Sure.” He gets it. All of the technology here gives an unfair advantage to those who are used to it or who can figure it out. For a place with so many residents originating from magic-based worlds, transitioning to a system based on code and machinery can be a struggle.

Mr. L himself hates how digital this place is-- his robots seem a lot more impressive in places where little pocket-sized computers aren’t commonplace-- but he also knows how unlikely it is that someone wouldn’t put the island’s free technology to use if they could. This man is either technologically disinclined, then, or an idiot who can’t see value and usefulness when it’s literally in his hand.

     … God damn it, he’s right. Boxcars drops him, and you know what, lets the fucker land on his head. Knock some shit around in there, maybe quit being a little thief. 

     “GREAT NOW GET OUTTA HERE. I SEE YOU IN MY RECYCLING AGAIN I’LL REALLY FUCKING LOSE IT.” God, what a fucking mess, too. Why did this guy only go for the metal bits? Wait, didn’t Clover have a friend who worked with metal?

     God damn it, it’s all coming together. Fuck green people and their fucking green friends.

“...oof.” This is... unfortunate. Mr. L gets headaches often enough already without people going around dropping him on his head.

“Alright, alright,” but he’s not going to leave without the scraps he already collected. Rubbing at his head with one hand, Mr. L gets wobbly to his feet and scoops up the bits of recycling littered over the floor, watching Boxcars out of the corner of his eye just in case his dumb not-ally tries anything.

Android? Was that what she was? It was a complicated situation really. The topic of what she was exactly was always a mystery to…a lot of people. Part machine and then part human. She won’t say anything though. Not a lot of people would understand and if she weren’t careful something could happen. She doesn’t want people poking around inside of her. 

“Who’s the first. Is it that one?” She’s pointing at his bot. “Or…is it….Conner?” Conner was his name, she remembers. 

“Coffee is for adults. Are you an adult?” 

“Connor! Yeah, that guy. I take it you two have met.” Mr. L should go talk to him again sometime, although the other robot had seemed a little put-out by the idea of Mr. L researching his design.

“Brobot’s not an android.” Even if he does have some human-like features. “He’s a person, but he’s not like you, exactly.” Not yet. Although... Mr. L has been considering trying to give his little creation an AI or personality or thoughts of its own.

“What? Of course I am! ...and coffee’s for everyone. Can you drink? I’ll treat you to a cup, you’ll see how good it is.” Her words beg the question, though--

“How old are you?” ...maybe he shouldn’t be pushing caffeine on a teenager, even if she is a machine.