♥ x 1

[sixwayheart]

[Action]

[Heart's first awakening in Luceti is a relatively eventful and arguably fateful encounter with Richard Sharpe, in which there is a robot in his closet. Perhaps because she's used to enclosed spaces like this immediately before someone opens them, despite her internal flummoxing about the oddity of her being active again, she hasn't tried to bust out or anything, so it'll be a surprise once it's opened up]

[Later in the day though, after getting the introduction to Luceti in whatever manner it happened up there, Heart is aware of the situation! Aware, but not really caring right now, or all that curious. See, situations aren't something which interest the woman all that, people are. And it's perhaps for this reason there is a woman who is now in a different set of clothes than the New Feather dress (though probably nothing too flashy) sitting alone in the main square. But she's also observing people, following their movements with her eyes. She's not programmed to approach, but something in the moment's demeanor implies that she would like other people to approach her.

If nothing else, the fact she'll be sitting there until well after sundown unless people do and get her out of there is probably a thing. Once it becomes too late for her to reasonably expect anyone to be out though, she heads to the Welcome Center to take up one of the beds there for her rest. Encounter her and become a user(?!) at either location]

Comments

[greenjacketed]

Err -- [ his manners stumble, and he rubs at the back of his neck. what the hell? he grumbles some kind of an apology: ] Look, what's your name? We can get you a seat. Maybe a cuppa or something.

[ he figures she must be in shock. yes. ]

[sixwayheart]

[ . . . Liberties? She can take liberties. Nothing in her programming says she can't interact while during the set up stage, and frankly, she wants this person to be a user she wants everyone to be a user and as such, she prompts:]

You're older than eighteen?

1/2

[greenjacketed]

2/2

[greenjacketed]

...Aye, miss. [ he steps back once again -- offering her a wide berth. ] Much older than.

[sixwayheart]

[Heart doesn't move from her spot, but he expression shifts just a little. She's actually very pleased to have confirmation that he programming accepts to pass that stage. Onto the next one, then! With a straight face, comes the equally insane sounding-]

Do you want to register yourself with this unit?

[greenjacketed]

...Eh? [ register? does she mean...? ] Oh -- err, yes.

[ he assumes she wants an introduction: ] Richard Sharpe, miss. Your servant. [ he almost bows stiffly but dammit he's out of uniform and feeling awfully odd. ]

[sixwayheart]

[Oh how dashing. She likes the name Richard Sharpe, she decides, and thus she smiles, just a little, before pressing on to the next part. It's automated, so it's not like she can effect the wording right now (well, she could... maybe? She doesn't think this though):]

Please pick a personality profile, by selecting a number between one and six as described in your manual.

[greenjacketed]

...What manual?

[ at first blush, he seems a little -- well -- stupid. ]

[sixwayheart]

[... ... Time for another liberty]

I don't have it.

[But she has to say it, for legal reasons. She is programmed as such]

[greenjacketed]

You're...damned odd, miss. [ but he tries to cope. tries to make sense. ] Shall I simply...pick a number, then?

[sixwayheart]

[She nods. Yeah, a number would be pretty awesome. After all, then she could actually embrace a new identity with him!]

[greenjacketed]

Five. I choose five. [ the words are rushed, as though he's eager to get this show-and-dance over with so he can proceed to the very noble part where he gives her a jacket, a cup of tea, a sandwich, and maybe directions to the nearest place where she can find clothing more befitting the situation. because -- dam him -- a year in this place and he's still utterly flummoxed by those thin shifts the new women are made to wear. ] Happy, are you, lass?

[sixwayheart]

[Five! Five and processed. Legally she says to say "As a warning, once you have selected a personality profile, you must take this unit to a Total Heart Cooperation service station to have this reset. Are you sure you want to use this profile?" But she begins to mutter that quietly as soon as he says five the first time, and then just accepts the "Happy, are you?" as confirmation of that. Sure, she's cheating, but the liberty of that seems so much more sound than waiting to be in a position to entertain and enthuse her user.

Which is why once five is selected, the core programming takes over. Processing... processing - okay it's really not a long delay, but once it's done, she looks down at her attire, scoffs a moment, and plants a hand on her hip - her body language changes and she looks more than a little coy as she comments]

Be happier if I wasn't exposed in your closet. [And before she can fully get into the character he picked-] And tell me my name? Unless you want me to default.

[greenjacketed]

[ ...his brows raise. ] Don't bloody well know your name, do I? You're supposed to tell me.

[ and with introductions (almost) done, the new personality may care to take note of the rest of the room -- particularly the baker rifle in the corner, propped against the wall. the heavy cavalry sabre and its belt hangs from his headboard. his journal, on the nightstand. otherwise, the room is sadly sparse. ]

[sixwayheart]

Not very creative, are we... [And at this she struts, actually struts, on out of the closet and past him - taking note of the scars as she passes as well as the general layout of the room.

Sure, her outfit isn't super dignified, but she can rock it. She has the figure for it, even if it leaves her exposed. The rifle catches her interest but her programming concludes she can't touch the thing, even if she wants to. So instead, she just goes to make her way slowly toward the bed and therefore the belt]

I'm Heart.

[greenjacketed]

...Heart.

[ or, perhaps, hart. a surname. that makes more sense. he whirls to follow her movements, acutely aware of where she is and where she's heading. because sharpe's a decent reader of disposition and this woman's had just changed. in a heartbeat. ] Why don't you and I go downstairs, Heart? Have some tea. We can talk. You're curious, aye? You must be. I would be.

[sixwayheart]

Very, actually. [That's answered with a turn to face him. Going for the saber now would stand out too much, so instead she just runs a finger on the bedpost now that she made it that far. That lasts only a moment though, and goes back to her side after that. Oh well]

Going to get dressed first?

[greenjacketed]

[ he curses himself for letting her past him -- she'd seemed so lost, a moment ago. hardly a threat. but now...? ]

Get yerself out in the hall, first, Miss Heart. [ and away from his precious sword. ]

[sixwayheart]

[Sheesh, demanding fellow. Still, she's got no reason to object to that, and, tugging a little at the dress because it just doesn't seem right, anymore, she glides away from the bed and towards ... a door. She assumes he means this door, and glances back at him briefly wit ha smile to see- yeah, this door. Open, and out]

[greenjacketed]

[ with heart removed from the immediate area, he could shrug his way into a shirt -- leaving its collar untied and the deep v loose on his chest. he could do it all without fearing what she might do with her fingers so near his sword-belt. the same sword-belt he now slips off the headboard and buckles around his waist. the yard of sheathed birmingham steel nearly touches the ground; it isn't a convenient looking sword.

soon, he joins her in the hall. ] Yer fortunate the weather's better than when the last lass turned up in my room.

[sixwayheart]

Why, was she stuck there?

[Though she does arch an eyebrow at the last lass comment, mostly. It's unflappable. She cannot be flapped.]

[greenjacketed]

...It were winter -- [ he explains, gently shutting his bedroom door. ] And she had to borrow my boots.

[sixwayheart]

They fit? [Because this is a big guy. There's a good chance they were too big]

[greenjacketed]

...Swamped her little toes, they did. [ although he thought of the memory with fondness, his face remained a scowling sort of mask -- breaking only when his brows raise and he gestures towards the stair. ]

[sixwayheart]

I'm sure they did. [Big feet and all. But okay, okay. She's going - with calculated steps. She's trying to go slow enough that she doesn't out and out have her back to him for too long]