I will hear their every story...

" I do hope my breakdown was of no consequence to you, once again, I am thankful for the help. "

The automaton smiles, steam hissing from the slightly open grate making up most of her neck. She wasn't rented out like this very much anymore, since Peter VI usually wanted her at home to keep tabs on the general management chain..

Seems someone must've called out some sort of favour. She's betting it's whoever fixed Rabbit's accordion a few years back. Why else, would she be seemingly showcasing a grand piano in a dying mall ?

HER MOVEMENTS ARE MECHANICALLY STIFF and gracefully fluid at the same time. Reggie finds it hard to look away, but she doesn't want to stare (even if that might be her sole purpose of being here in the first place). The metallic clinks with every small shift are somehow satisfying, almost as musical as the piano itself.

"DON'T MENTION IT." SHE SAYS with the dismissive wave of a hand. You'd think there'd be a proper mechanic around here for your upkeep, she wants to say. Since there isn't, though, it might be a sore topic. She decides not to ask.

Of course, she'd be shoving that in her Walter Worker's face later. As reprimand for running off to god know where and leaving her alone.

@sungtales said: " Got a basket of cheese curls in my car. " From G.G. to Hatchworth

" AAAAAAA- " The bronze bot leapt a solid foot into the air, holding his arms in some pseudo karate pose until he just, looked down. Of course. Who else could that auditory overload of a voice belong to ? " OH. Hey G.G. "

There were so many questions Hatchworth could ask there. Car ? HER car ?? Dear cog please don't say someone actually sent her that Lamborghini... That or it was Peter's car, which just may be worse. Either way, he was unfortunately curious.

GG LOOKED UP AT HIM , NOT EVEN BATTING AN EYE at his reaction to her sudden appearance. His scream isn't even acknowledged ( because who wouldn't scream with delight upon being graced with her presence ) and instead she immediately made a beeline to try and bite his arm. "HEY HATCHWORTH. DIDJA HEAR WHAT I SAID ? ABOUT THE CHEESE CURLS ? IN MY CAR ?"

" G.G. The thought of you driving makes my boiler gurgle all uncomfortably. "

However, he knew he wasn't actually getting out of this. It was G.G. She'd strong arm him with a personal item held hostage... His shoes came to mind first, maybe his glasses even. Either of which would be bad. Very bad.

@storiesecho asked :

" i appreciate your help. " from Function !

SHE QUICKLY REMOVES HER HANDS from the robot, as if she would fall apart again if they had their hands on them for too long. Reggie can't even imagine how expensive of a machine she must be, or why someone would make a robot so tall and so sexy, but that's another question entirely.

" I do hope my breakdown was of no consequence to you, once again, I am thankful for the help. "

The automaton smiles, steam hissing from the slightly open grate making up most of her neck. She wasn't rented out like this very much anymore, since Peter VI usually wanted her at home to keep tabs on the general management chain..

Seems someone must've called out some sort of favour. She's betting it's whoever fixed Rabbit's accordion a few years back. Why else, would she be seemingly showcasing a grand piano in a dying mall ?

You know. Like the actual Function protocol. The personality the bot oh so desperately needed to not seem like a 7'7 brass tower of sinister ambiance.

" I am not equipped with any weapons capable of shooting. And my EMP administration device is inoperable currently. "

Whatever the system was looking for, it certainly didn't find it. Gears clicked a little louder than they should, and pistons decompressed as the bot slouched forward for a moment, straightening back up with a billow of steam, and blue lights. Immediately she angled her head down and tilted it to the side. Well look at that ! Vital scans showing a beautiful error she only gets from those of the metal persuasion. Function visibly relaxed a bit.

HE CAN'T HELP BUT FREEZE IN WHAT LOOKS LIKE TERROR as she abruptly hunched forwards, hissing as steam erupts from her and she glows. He really should've run for it when he had the chance. He sort of just stares, completely frozen as she does.. whatever it is she's doing. She sounds friendlier, at least? And seems more personable then whatever just happened there. There's a large gap of silence as he tries to mentally process if he should still be scared right now.

@whatremcins said: " I know you had something to do with this. " to Function.

" If by this, you mean the momentary system malfunction that caused approximately 14.8 seconds of downtime, then no. I did not. I have adjusted the system to compensate for the lost time. " The M41 creaked as it turned its head to look at Anakin- Or, well, Lord Vader.. The computer let a puff of steam temporarily cloud its optics. It had certainly seen better days, and a good oil change would do it some good.

But the M41 isn't worrying about that right now. It's being addressed.

" I-I-I am Sorry. I have temporarily lost control of my h-h-hand. " The bot pulled its arms to its chest to minimize the movement, eventually, just resorting to pulling its right hand completely off and dropping it to the floor. It'd just reattach it later, after it stopped convulsing.

The sailor set her peace offering down and leaned against the counter like she already knew the place. Come on, it was Shep, the man lived like a college student and took care of himself like a down on his luck bachelor ! It made sense that two of the closest people he's got right now are his really aggressively social coworkers.

" I have my ways. By the way, you really should turn the location off on your phone when you're not actively using it, you know that ? You never know what kind of freak could figure out where you are. "

Or, in her case, you never know what sort of lesbian could figure out where you've gone. She's already gone and dropped his address to Venus while she was at it. Just in case.

And, as everyone knows, a couch is a multi-purpose piece of a furniture. A bed. A table. The list goes on. He'd gotten some real mileage out of the last one; he'll miss that old thing sorely.

It's not good beer (he suspects that assholes who don't tell their friends where they're moving haven't earned good beer), but it's drinkable beer, even if he makes a face after tasting it. "Oh. Great. Thanks." He gets the feeling he knows exactly what sort of freaks have been tracking his location, and takes his phone out of his pocket to dig through the settings. Then he gives up that pursuit quickly. It's not like it really matters. He spares the bundle of letters she's brought with her only a passing, disinterested glance.

"Throw it on the counter. Or in the trash. Sure it's just bills," Nick mutters. He leans against the wall across from her, twirling the bottle between his hands and staring out the window absently. He appreciates Caoimhe for... actually, a whole hell of a lot, but right now mostly for the fact that she's not absolutely grilling him about... you know, any of it. The house-burning-down thing or the ghosting thing or the everything else.

Maybe it's just because she's come to expect this sort of behavior from him, which is not a great realization to have about himself.

“ Yeah, it mostly looks like junk mail. Anything important is usually an email these days anyhow. But still, the landlord was getting on my case about it even after I told him I'm not your damn handler, so. Your problem now ! “ The sailor snatched a bottle, popped the cap off with her belt buckle, and took a rather big swig of the absolutely mediocre alcohol.

" Stupid Pudding, and her stupid braids, and her stupid guitar and- Huh ? "

The reporter turned on her heels and immediately locked her eyes on the blonde bounding up to her. Ulala couldn't even return the greeting by the time Harmmony had started talking again; but the unbridled compliments washed over her like a wave, immediately dowsing the irritated flame. Ulala rolled her shoulders back and rested a hand on her hip with a grin.

NOW , HARMONY MAY NOT BE THE SHINIEST DIAMOND ON A TIFFANY NECKLACE , but she could at least tell when someone wasn't having the best of days. And just by approaching the stranger , she could tell that there was something bugging her (it was mostly the look on her face , but the annoyed mumbling certainly did help). Still , an angry pretty girl is still a pretty girl and Harmony would be lying if she said the outraged look on her face wasn't a little attractive - wait , no , that's not right so she wasn't going to waste the opportunity by not complimenting her.

FORTUNATELY , THE COMPLIMENT SEEMED TO BE ENOUGH to momentarily distract her , face lighting up with a smile. While that was good , it also introduced Harmony to a brand new problem : somehow , one smile was enough to make her forget everything she was about to say. She didn't know why , or how , but instead of leading the conversation with her usual confidence and grace , she started stumbling over her words like she's never formed a sentence in her life.

“ You’d be surprised! I almost wore my pink uniform today! Then we’d really be strawberry struttin’ through the day! “

It was her fun orange one today though, her personal favourite. Made her feel like how sherbet tastes after a long day on case… But that was NOT what she should be focused on right now, she was in the middle of a conversation! The reporter stuck out her hand, grinning ear to ear.