un: unitA2 (voice)

[abandonware]

[The voice that filters through has the gruff, raspy edge of someone who hasn't spoken in a while.]

I need intel on the monsters on the outskirts. I'll kill them in exchange.

[After a moment:] There's something else that I need. A cloak. It needs to - [an irritated sigh, and in a mutter:] how do I explain this - to be able to offset high temperatures. A heat sink. It'll increase my functionality.

I can do something in return. That's all.

Comments

Re: private.

[abandonware]

Yeah. [A2's voice is smaller now, diminished.] They did.

[She doesn't know why. She was timid, weak, her performance lackluster as compared to everyone else. Her vision blurs and then adjusts itself.]

No. 4... my friend. My best friend. [She thinks of how Beta had referred to this Varl, and it seems right — to refer to No. 4 as this. No. 4 who was always beside her, who was always looking out for her.] She was the last one left. She destroyed herself for me. I couldn't help her, even though I tried. Couldn't help anyone. [...] I was only a burden.

Re: private.

[nobetawedielike]

[ Her first instinct is to refuse the claim, comfort A2 and reassure her that she been nothing of the sort.

But Beta's been a burden too. Stood useless while Varl was run through in front of her. Could she truly handle it if someone tried to tell her otherwise when she knew the truth?

She switches her tablet to call, her voice soft. ]

I'm sorry, A2. There's nothing I can say to make it better. But they sound like wonderful people. I'm glad you had them.

Re: private.

[abandonware]

Hah. [The laugh is brief and humorless. A gust of wind through dry autumn leaves.] Do humans always apologize for things that aren't their fault?

[She actually didn't know if it was their fault or not. How could it be? They had died long before YoRHa had even existed. Could you blame a thing that never existed to you?]

They were. [People. An android wasn't a person. They were tools. Weapons. But she appreciates the sentiment, all the same. It was one she'd never experienced before. No one had ever said, "I'm sorry for your loss," or, "I'm sorry that happened to you." Not until here. She doesn't know what to do with it. To say that she didn't deserve it felt cruel, in the wake of Beta's sympathy. To say she misses her friends is too painful to articulate. So, instead:]

... Thank you, Beta.

[Her voice is small. But the words are genuine.]