#loched.interactions

Loch fancied he could be forgiven for having been the first in line for this. It was, perhaps, a bit of overkill to have arrived as quickly as he did when he heard exactly what this was, but the mere possibility of being able to touch a keyboard again was enough to push him to a level of punctuality he'd never before demonstrated. It was as exciting as the first time Nathan Drake realized he had the ability to survive the impossible. Survival was not, perhaps, Loch's strength, but adapting was and he was confident in his ability to jailbreak even this limited system into something more useful. Christ on a bike, he was excited about this.

Turning to the person with the (mis)fortune of standing behind him, Loch began asking the questions he considered to be of paramount importance. "So, have you worked with this system before? Is it pretty standard, like Linux or Windows? I've heard it's more like a search engine before. Have you heard if it's particularly intuitive or is it running off of like Windows 84-style bullshit? And, most importantly, how good is the WiFi? If it only works on WiFi, we'll need a halfway decent connection, unless someone's willing to get into the details of hardware, which I'm not. I'm more than happy to optimize the software, but actual hardware is so far beyond me, it makes a summer trip to Andromeda feel feasible."

Forgive him for not having a background in these things, but it was Loch's esteemed opinion that anytime weapons were needed, he'd already failed in whatever job he was supposed to be doing and he may as well accept his fate as the red shirt of the group. Sure, he played enough video games to have half-way decent hand-eye coordination and could at least hold his own when it came to hand-to-hand and self-defense, but picking up a gun? It put a sour taste in the back of Loch's throat, like the tingling promise of bile. He was not going to enjoy this.

The person next to him likely, in his mind, didn't expect to be addressed with how quiet the room was, but the few cares Loch gave for social convention had long-since decided to abandon ship when this requirement came through. "Is this really necessary," he demanded, hand shoved so deeply into pockets it was a question on whether or not they'd reappear at all. "I'm a techy. Support class. Unspoken genius of the electronic variety, whatever you care for. Is it seriously so important I know how to shoot?"