Somehow Rinzler remembers that heart to heart a little differently. Noise catches audibly at giving up, but if the program loathes the words on instinct, there's not much to respond with. Certainly, there's nothing to do. He can't move. Can't leave. Even if he did get out, there isn't anywhere to run to. Just centicycles back, he wouldn't have felt the need to try.
Still, fingers curl around the shelf below him as the malware turns its back, calculations tracking the distance to attack from spite alone. Unsurprisingly, they all dead-end. In his current state, Rinzler would be lucky to close the few-step gap before it turned, much less do any harm through the bars. And he'd definitely reopen his own damage trying.
Still, it's tempting. Certainly there's no other way he can express his feelings now. Wasn't that how their talk in the dorm had ended? With the malware's smug remark about how convenient Rinzler's lack of vocals really was—it could always ignore anything he'd meant to say.
The enforcer hadn't been capable of resenting what Clu had taken from him then. Now? Rinzler thinks he might be. Certainly he's capable of hating this glitch for its words: claiming understanding without the need to look or listen. He can't give output, and the ticking rattle glitches up in mute, seething rage. If there were anything in reach, Rinzler might throw it from sheer frustration.
Mostly, he hates that Prometheus is probably right. He had been before, after all.
no subject
Still, fingers curl around the shelf below him as the malware turns its back, calculations tracking the distance to attack from spite alone. Unsurprisingly, they all dead-end. In his current state, Rinzler would be lucky to close the few-step gap before it turned, much less do any harm through the bars. And he'd definitely reopen his own damage trying.
Still, it's tempting. Certainly there's no other way he can express his feelings now. Wasn't that how their talk in the dorm had ended? With the malware's smug remark about how convenient Rinzler's lack of vocals really was—it could always ignore anything he'd meant to say.
The enforcer hadn't been capable of resenting what Clu had taken from him then. Now? Rinzler thinks he might be. Certainly he's capable of hating this glitch for its words: claiming understanding without the need to look or listen. He can't give output, and the ticking rattle glitches up in mute, seething rage. If there were anything in reach, Rinzler might throw it from sheer frustration.
Mostly, he hates that Prometheus is probably right. He had been before, after all.