and it seems a lot like flesh is all I got

[hatesimprovising]

Who: Agent Washington, Solid Snake, Dr. Emily Grey, and YOU maybe. if you're interested.
When: the first half of August
Where: various locations
What: just a teeny catch-all. mostly in which Wash openly defies doctors' orders to rest and let his body heal after the mess of July and all it wreaked upon him.
Warnings: injury, blood, talk of slavery, probably more so will update as needed


i bet a lot of me was lost; t's uncrossed and i's undotted | closed to emily grey
[ In all honesty, he's been back on the Moira long enough that he shouldn't be just now doing this. He should have done this about the moment he got back, but after everything that had happened, the last thing he'd wanted to put up with had been doctors. So here Wash is, days after being rescued from slavery and near-constant battles to the death, finally making his way to the medbay.

He's in horrible shape. Has been for over a month now, just getting increasingly worse. First Tex had broken his rib. Then there'd been the battle with the Caducans so soon after that he'd had no time to heal properly. Then he'd been somehow transported off the ship, captured, and sold into slavery where he'd been forced to fight others to the death. He's dotted in all sorts of wounds--stabs, slashes, bruising, various scrapes and scratches, and oh yeah, his rib has still not healed and has been hurting more than it had for the first part of last month. Considering the size of some of these wounds, the lack of stitching and proper care in most of them, and the clear fact that some of them have torn open at least once from movement, he really should have come straight to the medbay. But he's stubborn and really only caving now because of the pain and the fact that a lot of the injuries are impacting his ability to do much of anything.

Limping his way through the medbay door, Wash is doing his best to stand up straight, though he hasn't really been able to since the murderfights had jostled his poor rib around more. One hand is resting on the lower part of his ribcage like that might ease some of the pain while also trying to look completely casual about it. His eyes search the medbay, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the people he knows is a physician, but he's coming up empty. Instead, his gaze comes to rest on a woman nearby and, after scrutinizing her for a long moment, he calls out to her. ]

Is there a doctor around?


i'm open a moment and close when you show it; before you know it, i'm lost at sea | closed to solid snake
[ Bed rest. That's what he's been told, that's what he's supposed to be getting while he lets his body heal. It feels like a death sentence. Laying still, stuck in one place all day... Wash hates it. He's bad enough with downtime as it is, but downtime where he can't keep himself busy? That's more of a problem. It's almost painful. It has his fingers twitching in search of something to do and has his mind wandering, trying to find something to think about, and venturing to areas in his head that he does not want to deal with.

Needless to say, against doctors' orders, he's left his bed and the room a few times now, just for a chance to sneak in some distraction, even if only in the form of a walk around the ship. Sure, laying in bed all the time has given him a lot of opportunity to spend time with his cats, but that's the only upside to it, and it's unfortunately not enough to keep him in place. Most of the time, he only does it while Snake and Alphys are out of the room, just to avoid any chastising that may occur, at least from the former, however, on this particular occasion when the door to the room slides open and Wash makes his return from his brief journey... he's met with the sight of Snake.

For a second, he simply stands in the doorway awkwardly, like he's some teenager who's just been caught sneaking out by a parent. Except no, he's a grown-ass man and he's perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Shaking off what awkwardness he can, Wash steps the rest of the way into the room and shuts the door, pointedly removing the hand that has been resting against his torso so as to look perfectly healthy. ]

I thought you were out.

[ It's noted as though it's not a big deal, like he hadn't been planning on getting back before Snake, and he looks down at the cats at his feet as they approach, rather than at the other man. He at least knows better than to lean down to give the cats attention, wanting to avoid the pain that would bring, but it doesn't do much for his 'I'm fine, don't worry about me' case, which he's been trying to make this whole time. ]


and the story unfolds; you should take my life, you should take my soul | ota
[ The changes incited by the returning captain don't bother Wash all that much, all things considered. It's more what he's used to. The last eight years of his life have been spent in the strict regime of the military where the need to conserve as much as possible is prevalent. Granted, Project Freelancer had been a bit more lax about some things than most military programs, but not so much so that the current changes frustrate him. He's even in favour of the efficiency that's been brought in, especially if it means getting them home faster.

Still injured from all of the events of the last month, but at least finally making some strides in healing, Wash does on occasion still give up on bedrest and sneak out of his room in search of distraction. That said, he's been better about staying put, but sometimes he just can't handle the silence of the room and the lack of anything to do but think. Sometimes he still needs to get the hell out of there.

His absences may be noted by any who are even slightly familiar with his schedule, as he has to take a break from his usual routine in most cases. However, he can, on occasion, be found in various places throughout the ship. Most notably, the mess hall. Guy's still gotta eat, no matter how fucked his body is, right? Sometimes he stops by the training room to watch anything that might be going on there, or even go to the gardens just for somewhere quiet to walk. Wash may not look like the most friendly person to approach, and for what it's worth, he's really not. The grumpy look that seems stuck on his face permanently isn't likely to disappear should someone stop to talk to him, but he is at least unlikely to ignore a person and keep walking? ]


( consider the last prompt something of a wildcard; feel free to bump into wash wherever around the ship! if you'd like to plot something with me though, i'm always available through pm or on plurk at notcrazyokay! )

Comments

[soldiergenes]

[ Far be it from Snake to proclaim himself anyone's babysitter, but he certainly hasn't missed the state that Wash has been in ever since he got whisked away to the slave outpost. While Snake hadn't been the one to bust him out of there, someone had, and Wash had returned worse for the wear. Given that he'd already been sporting a set of busted ribs, it's no surprise that he's been spending more time in the room resting.

Or so Snake had thought, at least.

Snake's on his bed, bent over to unlace his boots, and when Wash manages that awkward greeting he looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. ] You thought wrong. [ Wash looks like a guilty man, and that's what gives him away more than anything else. He is a grown-ass man who can make his own stupid choices, but Snake's past the point of holding his tongue. ]

Being bedridden is a nightmare, but getting yourself killed because you have to fight injured is worse. There's a point where you're not gonna be able to push through it anymore. [ Snake kicks his boots off and then tucks them in their spot under his bed. Really, he's the last person who can lecture anyone about this. Especially when he'd been younger, he'd always pushed himself too hard, to the point where it turned from admirable to idiotic. Even now, he'll force himself through any mission to the end, but he also knows that he has limits.

Like when Vamp had sucked a good pint of blood out of him and he'd had to take some time to rest while letting Raiden go ahead. There, he's even thought of a solid example. ]

[hatesimprovising]

[ He looks about as guilty as he feels, and he hates it. There's no reason to feel guilty, it's just some sort of kneejerk reaction to someone catching him in the midst or tail-end of being knowingly stupid. Of course, any residual guilty feeling is gone by the time Snake starts talking to him like this isn't already something he's aware of.

Huffing an irritated breath, Wash shoots Snake another glance before he starts shuffling back toward his own bed, his personal prison for the foreseeable future, shaking his head. While he knows full well that getting up and doing much of anything is stupid right now, it's not going to stop him from arguing the point needlessly out of sheer stubbornness. ]

I know that. I'm well-versed in not being able to push through it.

[ For example, he's been shot in the back, the bullet so close to his spine that he was nearly paralyzed. He'd been good and stayed in bed then. A scattering of different wounds not nearly that dangerous doesn't seem worth this amount of fuss.

...Okay, yes, they actually do, but that doesn't help his argument here. Hand returning to his torso seeing as there's little point in pretending he doesn't hurt if Snake is actually going to lecture him, Wash lowers himself slowly into a seat on the edge of his own bed, biting his tongue to keep from hissing. ]

But this isn't the worst condition I've ever been in, and I can't-- ...Laying around in here all day is driving me stir-crazy. I'm fine. A walk isn't going to kill me.

[soldiergenes]

[ "Well-versed in not being able to push through it." Snake reflects on that as he leans back on his hands. They've probably all been in that situation, but he can tell that there's more to that story, and it's gotten to a point where he'd like to dig deeper into some of Wash's vaguer comments. They've fought side by side now, and that makes them as close as two soldiers can get.

He watches Wash's hand on his torso like a hawk. Maybe it would be better to start with what happened here on the Moira. It's something recent, fresh in Wash's memory, but maybe not as personal as some of the horrors he dealt with back home. ]

It won't kill you, but it will slow down your recovery. [ It's hard to ignore how much he sounds like a lecturing parent in that moment, which forces Snake to sigh to himself. He's gotten too old for all this, hasn't he. ]

It'll help if you have a distraction while you're resting. [ Since no one can be expected to sleep all the time, but being stuck in bed limits you to reading or talking. ] So how'd you get your ribs broken? [ Wash had wriggled out of answering that question during the Caducan attack, but things are relatively calm under their new captain, at least for the moment. If there's any time to talk about it, it's now. ]

[hatesimprovising]

[ Though Wash scoffs at Snake's words, he does unfortunately make a good point. And slowing his recovery is the last thing Wash needs right now. That's what happened all through the previous month, and now that things are quiet for once, he should be taking the opportunity to rest as much as possible.

...He just can't stand laying still. Can't stand being stuck alone so long with his own thoughts. Hell, he can't even just sleep his way through the healing process. Sleep is not his friend and hasn't been in years.

As Snake adds that a distraction will help, Wash opens his mouth to respond with something to the effect of there being no distractions, but shuts it immediately as the other man continues. ...Ah. There's that question. The one he thought he'd been safe from after it never came back up after the battle against the Caducans. ]

You're going to distract me by asking me about the reasons I'm stuck resting?

[ It's critical, as is the quirk of Wash's eyebrow, but behind the words, he's trying to think of a way to get out of answering. ...But he can't exactly get up and walk out, and no doubt Snake will ask again later, or keep pressing. He's been holding on to it for this long, hasn't he?

There's a pause, then a harsh exhale and Wash looks away, focusing instead on some random point on the floor of the room. ]

Long story. I got into a fight with Tex, and she's... [ Really Complicated. ] ...She was the top agent in the program we were in.

[ Basically, he didn't stand a chance. He'll just leave the why they got into a fight out, because that's...what makes the whole thing a long and complicated story. Also somewhat embarrassing, since he'd been the one to start antagonizing her where it really wasn't necessary. ]

[soldiergenes]

[ Sorry, Wash, but Snake knows how to strike at the least expected moment, and that applies even to uncomfortable lines of questioning. He can practically feel the way that Wash squirms under it, but he'd asked for a distraction and this is what he's going to get. It may not be the kind that he wanted, but he'll have to put up with it.

As Wash searches for a way to answer, Snake pushes up from his bed and heads over to his storage crate where he keeps his guns. He'll need something to keep his hands busy while they talk, so cleaning his guns is as good a way to do that as any. It's something he does near-obsessively, but a gun can never be too clean.

Tex. The name is only vaguely familiar, but all it takes is a few swipes of his finger on his MID to bring up the directory. He finds Tex's photo and lets out a quiet "hmm" of acknowledgment before returning to the task of pulling out his guns. ]

Infighting, huh? Does it have to do with something that happened back where you two come from?

[ Now that they're doing this there's no reason for Snake to relent. Much like his namesake, once he gets his fangs in he doesn't have any intention of letting go. ]

[hatesimprovising]

[ Once Snake is on his feet, Wash's eyes are on him, watching his actions. Of course, as he heads to the storage crate, he knows exactly what's going on. He's been roommates with Snake long enough to know how much he cleans his guns. Hell, Snake cleans them more often than Wash cleans his own, and that's saying something. ]

Sort of. ...Not really. [ A beat. ] It's complicated.

[ And he's not so sure he wants to get in to those complications, given they're far more complicated than anything should be, not to mention a touchy subject on their own. Eyeing Snake for a long moment, jumping to the conclusion that he's planning to settle in to clean his guns while they apparently talk, Wash heaves another breath and starts petting the first of the cats to make it up onto his bed as a distraction. From his distraction. ]

I may have said and done a few things that she didn't appreciate.

[ In that he'd been intentionally antagonizing her with his intimate knowledge of her and who and what she is that he shouldn't have but does. ...All done out of spite because of the way just seeing her brings up all those memories and feelings about her that aren't his. And really, that's just the beginning of the Thing between him and Texas. ]

[soldiergenes]

[ One of the things that Snake likes least about their room's setup is that there's only one desk for all three of them. They've made an effort to keep it clear so that any one of them can use it when they need to, but it would have been nice to have his own. All the same, he settles down at the desk with both his lethal and non-lethal handgun so that he can get to work.

At least he's at such an angle that he isn't going to be staring Wash down the entire time that they talk. That should make the guy a little more open to answering Snake's questions.

Or... maybe not. That's a lot of hedge words, and Snake sighs to himself as he picks up his SOCOM to start taking it apart. ]

You're making it sound a little like you deserved it. [ He's reading between the lines, but if that's what he has to do, then so be it. ] And all of your other injuries are from the outpost? [ Snake's gaze flicks to Wash then, eyes narrowed as he keeps watch for any sign of lying. ]

[hatesimprovising]

[ Of all the things that Wash is not good at, answering questions with details that aren't pertinent to whoever asked the question is definitely near the top of the list. He doesn't share more than he needs to. He doesn't trust others with details, and if it's personal, why elaborate? From his experience, anyone who expresses concern in him doesn't necessarily mean it. He's been stabbed in the back too many times to believe that any concern is genuine. No matter how well he knows someone. Or, in Snake's case, how long he's known someone. ]

...I probably did. To an extent.

[ To be fair, that's something he won't admit anywhere else. So, maybe he at least has some sort of trust in the fact that Snake won't go off talking about anything he hears in here.

The mention of the outpost has Wash tensing on instinct. That place had been... rough. He's been through things plenty more traumatizing than anything he experienced there, but that doesn't necessarily mean it didn't still cause some level of trauma. Being captured, sold, beaten, and forced into fights that had him killing people who didn't deserve it affects the psyche, no matter who you are and what you've experienced in the past. ]

Most of them. Some are from the fight with the Caducans. I didn't get a lot of time for them to heal before... whatever happened, happened, and some of us ended up on the outpost.

[soldiergenes]

[ The admittance from Wash is begrudging, which is reason enough for Snake to believe that it's true. The words don't fall out of his mouth with ease, the way that they would have if he was lying. To an extent, though. Which means that some of the fault lies with someone else.

So between this fight with Tex, the Caducan attack, and then the outpost, Wash really hasn't had any kind of break. Snake would think he'd be eager to get some rest after all that, but neither of them are really wired to relax. Hence why he's cleaning guns while they talk instead of just taking it easy. ]

Sounds like you could use a drink after all that.

[ Unfortunately, the ship's alcohol supply has been limited ever since the bar disappeared, so it's not like Snake can even offer Wash anything.

With the SOCOM dismantled, Snake uses a cloth to clean each individual component. ] The stuff that happened on the outpost, you ever been through something like that before? [ People like them, they can't just talk about normal things, because their lives are nowhere near that. Any deeper conversation they have is also going to involve treading into some uncomfortable territory. But after sharing a room for over half a year, Snake thinks it's probably time. ]

[bilology]

( emily almost misses him. she's doing several things at once, as she tends to do, and is in the process of quickly walking through the medbay while flipping through a number of different documents on some tablet-looking device. he's lucky he's got a distinctive voice, even if she almost literally trips over it. she comes to a clumsy stop, and thanks to her being out of armor for once, the startled look on her face is as clear as day when she whips around.

wash has awful timing.

all of a sudden, she looks absolutely ecstatic. ) I've got it! ( she barely turns her head enough to call out what amounts to a shrill dibs over her shoulder before she's practically bounding over to wash, item in hand absolutely forgotten. ) Wash!! ( how can his name possibly be turned in to a near-squeal? no one knows. only emily can make it happen. ) I'm so glad you're here! —Well, no, I'm not, because that means you're not where you're supposed to be, so I'm not happy you're here-here, but it's nice to see a familiar face! ( okay, maybe she's more familiar with the back of his head and his helmet than she is his actual face, but she remembers what it looks like well enough!

she finally pauses her 90 mile a minute babbling to take a breath... and then her nose crinkles up when the state of him sinks in. ) You look terrible. What happened?

( maybe he should add "emotional whiplash" to his list of injuries. )

[hatesimprovising]

[ Startling anyone hadn't been his intent, but he assumes it's merely because she'd been distracted that she stops so awkwardly. At least, until she's looking at him with something that looks oddly like recognition and starts bouncing over with more enthusiasm than he thinks he's ever seen contained in just one person.

The odd look on Wash's face drops off almost immediately the very second he hears his name leaving her mouth, however. How does she know his name? Yes, there's a directory of everyone on the ship, but there's no way she could have memorized it, and she has to be new because her face is completely unfamiliar to him, so recognizing him from the network or seeing him around the ship is out...

She's from home. She's from home, she's from somewhere in the future, and she knows him. That's the logical conclusion, and one that seems confirmed as she babbles like a madwoman. What the fuck is with this stupid ship and its stupid portal that it just loves dragging more and more people who know him here? He is beyond fed up and does not want to deal with anyone from his future, not the ones that he knows, and not the ones that he doesn't know. ]

Nothing. You've got the wrong person.

[ Both blatant lies. Not that the obviousness of them stops Wash from turning awkwardly on his heel and starting his staggering way back toward the door. No way he's dealing with this. ]

I'll come back later.

[bilology]

( excuse you.

excuse you. you don't waltz in to a medbay looking like regurgitated garbage and then try to flounce off. emily don't play that game. ) Nooo, I don't, and no, you won't!

( she reaches out, delicately pinching the back of his collar between her thumb and forefinger, pulling with gentle pressure to get him to stop. it's a silent warning, an order even, for him to stay put or else. ) I will chase you across this ship, Agent Washington, and don't you think I won't. You don't look like you're in any position to run, so you might as well save yourself the pain and embarrassment and come on back in here by choice!

( has he ever been threatened in such a bubbly manner? if not, there's a first time for everything. )

[hatesimprovising]

[ As much as he looks and feels like regurgitated garbage, it would still be no challenge to pull himself free of her grip on his collar. That she has the audacity to do it in the first place nearly has him continuing on his way simply on principle. Except, she has a point, at least in that he's in no position to run and he's not really interested in playing a game of chase with some painfully cheerful doctor.

Wash reluctantly stops walking, though he unceremoniously tugs himself free of her grip before turning to face her again, eyes narrowed. Fine, he'll stay. But he's not going to be happy about it. ]

Who are you? And how do you know who I am?

[ Despite the conclusions he's come to, he's not going to stay here and let her patch him up without demanding those answers. Details about the future are not something he wants to deal with, but how they supposedly know each other is the one exception to that. Best to get some kind of idea so he can know where he stands with her, though at least unlike meeting Church before knowing who he was, it doesn't seem to him like he's somehow responsible for her death. Still, one can never be too careful. He's not going in to this with his guard down. ]

[bilology]

( success. she lets him pull away once it's clear he's not going to run, but the snappy questions throw her for a loop. she stares at him, awkward confusion written all over her face, before it hits her. right. he hasn't seen her out of armor before, has he? she's mistaken for a robot with it on, and now that she's taken it off, she finally runs in to someone from home and it renders her unrecognizable.

she laughs, waving a hand at him because he is just so silly. ) I forgot you haven't seen me like this before! It's me, Dr. Grey! ( she says it like that explains everything.

well, it would. if he were from the right point in time!! )

[hatesimprovising]

[ Staring quietly at her is all he manages for several long moments. Yeah, that answers who she is, but it doesn't tell him how she knows who he is. He's getting the idea that she may not know that people can come from different universes and times. Or she's just not cluing in. Or she's just kind of dense. All possibilities.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and cross his arms, Wash breathes and exasperated exhale. All he wanted was to get patched up quickly and get the hell out of here. Why can't things ever be easy? ]

Who?

[ The question is annoyed, but it should be evident enough that he's not just playing with her. ]

I don't know any 'Dr. Grey'.

[bilology]

You don't—? ( oh.

oh, he's serious.

oh. a strange look crosses over her face, like she's genuinely stumped, but then it's gone in a flash and she's eyeing him like he's just given her a complicated equation to solve. she's read a little about this. people who have the same names or faces as ones you know, but they aren't actually the same person. people from the past, from the future. weird alternate-dimension sounding stuff.

she never expected to actually experience it, and now that she's staring at him a little harder, it's obvious. ) Oh my— you don't know me, do you? ( her eyes widen, a hand shooting up to her mouth to hide a little gasp. this is kind of fucking amazing. ) I should've noticed. You look so much younger! How old are you?

[hatesimprovising]

[ Actually, it's almost entertaining watching the way that statement makes her expression shift. She goes through such a series of looks while she seems to sort through it, and Wash is just starting to wonder if he's going to have to straight up explain how things work around here when she appears to get it.

Eyebrows shooting up, an unimpressed look spreading across his face, he opens his mouth to tell her that no, he doesn't, he wouldn't have said that he didn't if he did, but she continues before he can manage. And her words have his mouth shutting just as quickly. ]

I what?

[ Looks so much younger??? Uhm??? How far into the future is she even from... And does he even want to know...

No. No. Not important. He opts instead to focus on her question, expression slipping into a frown because really, what kind of question is that? It's entirely inappropriate and, for that matter, none of her business. ...Even if he's pretty sure it's in the files here and in his medical record, which she has full access to if she's really a physician.

But still! ]

What does that even matter?! I came here for medical treatment, not to play twenty questions.

8th or so-- hallway outside the bar?

[lostsymmetry]

[There aren't many people out and about at this hour. Those that are seem to be on-shift, insomniac... or trickling regularly in and out of a single door in Moro hall. The room is listed in his files as private access, and the mainframe AI watches curiously from the hall cameras as carbons enter in one state and stumble out... well. In another.

Intoxication might not be completely foreign-- one of the civic tests made use of the behavior. But seeing actual people come and go, chattering and complaining and gathering to relax? Well... that's new. Nearly as new as seeing so many living people in one place at all. Voices and faces, hostility and friendliness and casual exchange of words. It's been decades since he's been a part of anywhere so occupied, and the change is bright and noisy and... overwhelming.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.

The shape emerging from the doorway now is alone, and it's impulse as much as anything that has the AI scanning the registry to find a match. When he finds one, he backchecks it from sheer surprise. He recognizes that name. There's an alcove a little ways down the hall with some kind of public terminal installed. As Wash walks by, the display starts to flicker, showing a symmetrical blue logo that quickly glitches itself into a stable, mismatched pattern.]

Hey! Washington, right?

[Ceiling speaker? On and working.]

perfect!

[hatesimprovising]

[ While he's not flat-out drunk, Wash is absolutely inebriated to an extent. Far more so than he's allowed himself to get at any point prior to this month, and far more often than he'll admit, even to those who have seen him in the new bar so often. July was a rough time, and he's just... needed a little liquid help in dulling pain, both physical and mental.

He's walking impressively straight for someone who's had as much to drink as he has, though he very nearly trips over his own foot at the sound of a voice overhead. Even while intoxicated, being startled sends him immediately into defence mode, though the delayed recognition of the voice has Wash releasing some of the tension his body now holds. Eyes darting to the terminal to his side, the logo displayed looks vaguely familiar. Hadn't he seen it on that new AI's monitor? ]

Yeah.

[ The response is a little slow, but it's paired with a slight nod as Wash eyes the screen. It's still weird, talking to an AI that has no actual appearance. He has no idea of where to look, and that's not a quandary he wants to debate while his thoughts are moving at around half-capacity. ]

They got you in the system, huh?

[ His words have just an edge of a slur to them, but all things said, he's pretty alert. ...And impressed, but not surprised. He'd had a feeling someone would be able to upload this AI somehow. ]

[lostsymmetry]

[Tense much? Though the lack of leveled weapons still puts that in the better half of reactions so far. The mainframe's beginning to think he should get a warning chime or something. The image on the display pulses a little as Wash's gaze hovers uncertainly. It's his face. Good for looking at, and not really much else.]

Got it in one. Thanks for lending a hand.

[The words come easier than before, a subtle tension lifted. The thanks might not contain quite as much desperate relief, but there's no less sincerity. Washington had helped--a lot.]

[hatesimprovising]

[ He is a paranoid soldier, what do you expect from him when it comes to sudden noises?

It's...actually kind of good to hear that someone had gotten the AI plugged into the system somehow. Gotta be better than being trapped in that one dusty, unconnected terminal. At the thanks, Wash just nods and waves it off with a motion of his hand. ]

Not a big deal.

[ It's not like the crew could have really made use of an AI trapped in a single terminal, after all. They'd had to have moved him to make him useful to the ship. He hadn't been helping, really, just... doing his job. Or whatever. ]

This must be a big upgrade for you. Seemed like your old system wasn't as advanced as this one.

[lostsymmetry]

[Still allergic to thanks? Seems like. Oh well, he meant it anyway. And being able to see the dismissive gestures is definitely a step up.]

Oh?

[Right, that "not advanced" thing. The AI just sounds amused.]

What makes you say that?

[hatesimprovising]

[ The amusement registers, though just barely. Wash makes another gesture with his hand, though it's very vague and doesn't really communicate... anything. Gesturing a lot with his hands is an old habit, one he's largely gotten rid of, but apparently it makes a comeback when he drinks. ]

I mean, you don't even have a data chip. And that terminal was such old tech, from the looks of it.

[ Really. It's not like he meant 'not advanced' as an insult, exactly, it just seems like fact. Compared to what he's used to, this AI seems so... first gen. ]

Can you even project an image of yourself? Or do you have no appearance like you have no name?

[lostsymmetry]

[Back to the datachips, huh? Interesting. They must be standard feature in Washington's world. Why, the mainframe's less clear on, but it's a point worth noting.]

That terminal was the control panel for the facility. And I'm a mainframe AI.

[Written for his manufacturers, even. And while he's not going to say he hasn't missed some (thirty years of) upgrades...]

What use would those features be to Domesticon?

[hatesimprovising]

[ There's a long moment where Wash is silent, simply staring at the screen, seemingly at a loss for words. Not so much because he doesn't have a response, but more because...that question shouldn't need to be asked. ]

You're an artificial intelligence. An intelligence. You're sentient. Sentient beings have a right to a name, and to a personality and an appearance that reflects that personality.

[ Granted, the AI he's used to are based on a human mind, which is where their personality comes or is inspired from, but still. Anything with a mind has a personality, right? That only makes sense. ]

Plus, having someone to look at while they're talking to an AI tends to make people more comfortable. Sort of... makes them seem more human, too, I guess.