[Rinzler knows what he saw. Rinzler is, however, having some serious trouble parsing it. Round eyes fix on the hand. Shift to the face. To Alan-one, user-creator, looking down at him with hexagonal pupils and the faintest electronic echo to his voice. With circuits.
The color does not help. As biological as Rinzler's sound might have become, that doesn't prevent it from cutting when his breathing does, a several second stall as scrambled tags completely fail to align. Admin. Programmer. Clu, and he needs to bow, to still, to wait for instruction—but it isn't, and he shouldn't. This isn't the admin he's written to serve.
Rinzler reaches, half-desperate, for the grounding of directive. But there's no disk in his own back. No code in his body. Nothing at all to stop the plaintive little mew that comes out as the kitten angles its head to the side. It's the most Rinzler gesture yet, if... very, very bewildered. A status query? A request for direction? Maybe both.
no subject
The color does not help. As biological as Rinzler's sound might have become, that doesn't prevent it from cutting when his breathing does, a several second stall as scrambled tags completely fail to align. Admin. Programmer. Clu, and he needs to bow, to still, to wait for instruction—but it isn't, and he shouldn't. This isn't the admin he's written to serve.
Rinzler reaches, half-desperate, for the grounding of directive. But there's no disk in his own back. No code in his body. Nothing at all to stop the plaintive little mew that comes out as the kitten angles its head to the side. It's the most Rinzler gesture yet, if... very, very bewildered. A status query? A request for direction? Maybe both.
He doesn't know what to do.]