[No answer. No words at all, in reassurance or alarm. Nothing but the tap of keys, short and steady, and it's the echo more than anything that solidifies the dread. Arid would answer. Tersely, obliviously, with denial or annoyance or a focused disregard for anything besides her human, but even at her worst, she would say something in return.]
Oh no.
[The words are much too small. Input completes, a small prompt flashing up on the screen requesting a Domesticon employee number. It doesn't matter whose number is supplied-- what face he chooses to take on this time. It's not Arid, and there's only one other person it could be.]
...no, no, no, stop it, please--please don't--!
[Sharp. Frantic. Helpless, terrified, already choking in a wash of static.]
no subject
Oh no.
[The words are much too small. Input completes, a small prompt flashing up on the screen requesting a Domesticon employee number. It doesn't matter whose number is supplied-- what face he chooses to take on this time. It's not Arid, and there's only one other person it could be.]
...no, no, no, stop it, please--please don't--!
[Sharp. Frantic. Helpless, terrified, already choking in a wash of static.]