He nods, assurance that he'll be right where she leaves him. While she's getting herself attended, Knock Out makes a slow circuit of the store, resisting the urge to touch everything. So many tiny things that he's never seen up close before, and knows only from downloaded pictures and abstract references.
(He does allow himself to play with a few things. A petite wind chime, a set of scenic magnets, a bracelet made of fake seashells. For a few minutes, he can indulge and pretend everything is fine.)
He stops in front of the ATM, frowning at it, and with a quick glance around to make sure no one's looking, rests the holoform's hand on the screen. Immediately the display fritzes and jumps, but he has no way of delivering code like this. A hard line, then? Something to think about. Knock Out pulls back and the screen smooths out as if nothing had happened.
Standing in front of the large window that overlooks the parking lot, watching the steady hum and flow of traffic coming in and out, watching himself sitting in the morning sunshine, Knock Out is trying not to let his own thoughts wander. If what he suspects now to be true really is -- that this is some bizarre, abnormal exPort -- the news isn't good for Rogue or him.
And he can't fix it. The idea is enough to stutter his spark rotation for the swiftest of seconds.
But for Rogue, at least, he can hopefully mitigate the worst of it, for as long as he can. Treat the symptoms, even if he can't cure the cause. Break the problems down into manageable, solvable elements. Target what could be done, not what couldn't.
(He is a medic. This is just another kind of triage. Focus.)
He's recovered some equilibrium by the time Rogue emerges, enough to give her a smile. "Shall we?"
no subject
(He does allow himself to play with a few things. A petite wind chime, a set of scenic magnets, a bracelet made of fake seashells. For a few minutes, he can indulge and pretend everything is fine.)
He stops in front of the ATM, frowning at it, and with a quick glance around to make sure no one's looking, rests the holoform's hand on the screen. Immediately the display fritzes and jumps, but he has no way of delivering code like this. A hard line, then? Something to think about. Knock Out pulls back and the screen smooths out as if nothing had happened.
Standing in front of the large window that overlooks the parking lot, watching the steady hum and flow of traffic coming in and out, watching himself sitting in the morning sunshine, Knock Out is trying not to let his own thoughts wander. If what he suspects now to be true really is -- that this is some bizarre, abnormal exPort -- the news isn't good for Rogue or him.
And he can't fix it. The idea is enough to stutter his spark rotation for the swiftest of seconds.
But for Rogue, at least, he can hopefully mitigate the worst of it, for as long as he can. Treat the symptoms, even if he can't cure the cause. Break the problems down into manageable, solvable elements. Target what could be done, not what couldn't.
(He is a medic. This is just another kind of triage. Focus.)
He's recovered some equilibrium by the time Rogue emerges, enough to give her a smile. "Shall we?"