It ought not surprise him that Lyntael proved much less patient for talking things out calmly, in this particular moment, Rogan contemplated. He kept the primary view screen focused on the girl's detailed diagnostics; he recognised heart rate, respiration, core and extremity temperatures and several other basic vitals, though he was still swamped by the plethora of other read outs and diagrams that he suspected detailed pain responses as well as emotional, chemical and hormonal levels and interactions, much of which he felt he really shouldn't be invading in the first place... but it was better that watching her directly in her current state.
She demonstrated with swift efficiency once again that, when it came down to it these days, she didn't really need his help any more. There was no question that she'd been desperate for it in the early days, but he did wonder... Eric's accusation drifted up in his mind again; he'd given Lyntael to him because he thought Rogan needed her – the gift of a brother worried about his sibling – but the words he'd spoken after it was too late; that she'd needed him as well... He'd known the idea was there, when the whole arrangement had started, but he'd only really looked at her physical difficulties, and how she struggled, and he'd scoffed at Eric's awkward play. Well, she definitely didn't need his help in physical function any more... a sneaking thought slipped into his mind; after everything, it really seemed like she didn't truly need him emotionally any more either. Perhaps the opportunity for that kind of mutual benefit had passed, and he'd missed it. It surprised him, how uncomfortable the thought made itself. She'd reached out when he wasn't listening, and she'd found her own strength now instead. She wanted to be here for him, or so she said, but she didn't seem to need his support in return, not any more. Was he over-thinking it? This was why he avoided leaving his mind idle...
“Ah! Don't you dare, not again—!” Lyntael's frustrated shout drew his eyes back to the screen and without thinking he flicked the view back to a proper visual to see what was going on. Immediately, he turned his eyes to the side, shielding the screen from general view as he caught sight of the girl struggling to dress herself quickly again in the shallow water. The fight, at least, was done with, and her no worse for wear. When his peripheral vision told him she as done adjusting her clothes, Rogan looked back, then suppressed a sigh. Well, it was a beach, at least, and as long as he didn't draw the screen in closer, it didn't really show off the fact that her undergarments weren't nearly as opaque as a swimsuit when they were damp. She seemed to be moving on, just in her vest and underwear, apparently unperturbed. He opened the channel but didn't immediately find a way to ask if she was alright. Was there a good way to ask if she was too embarrassed, without amplifying any such feelings with the attention? After another moment or two he cleared his throat quietly.
“Lyntael. I... assume you're content to continue?” His fingers moved to hover above the commands he'd need to reinitialise her clothing, but he didn't press anything yet for fear of leaving the poor girl exposed again unexpectedly. On screen, Lyntael seemed nonchalant.
“I'm fine, Rogan.” He believed her, but again he found himself wondering if there wasn't some subtle ulterior motive to her risky behaviour. She got indignant and flustered, but it happened far too frequently and... he contemplated looking back at her more in-depth vitals again, before second-hand embarrassment stopped him... he had a suspicion there was some part of her that found these kinds of accidents exciting. He tried not to assess whether there was any disappointment in her voice as she claimed to have been expecting a more complete malfunction.
Instead, he listened and watched as she wandered down the beach on his screen, one not dissimilar to the scene before him, saving only that it was more barren; she seemed to be content, but as she mused about finding her balance, Rogan found himself wishing he could find the peace about everything that had happened that she seemed to be cultivating.
“I feel like I still need... I don't know...” There was a sense of frustration and uncertainty in her words as she tried to pin down what she meant; Rogan quickly gestured for another of the same with his glass towards the waitress that was moving in his direction, stopping her from actually approaching his table. The last thing he wanted was being picked up on improper browsing in public while his navi was trying to have a serious conversation.
“It doesn't feel quite... quite like I fit myself, not yet. I don't know how to explain it any better. Like there's so much here, but I don't quite know how to express it properly. And there's pressure still...” He'd heard her mention that before as well, though he still wasn't sure what it meant, exactly.
“I... Rogan...?”
“Hmm?”
“Could you... could you disconnect from me, for a little while? Stay with me, and keep watching, but...” Had they reached a point where it only felt right when she was out exploring or busting, if she was disconnected from her PET and alone? Rogan caught himself frowning and stopped.
“Lyntael, I know it maybe what you've grown used to, and I'll still need to do it for our work, but at this point, I'd rather not have you untethered unless it is necessary.” He meant it as a reassurance, but it didn't seem to have the effect he'd hoped for. Lyntael paused, glancing down and clasping her hands like a child asking for sweets.
“Please, Rogan. You'll still be with me, and you can patch up again right away if I get in trouble, can't you? I just... I feel like I need this. I need to be... free.” Rogan flinched as she finished, and the waitress delivering his drink stopped in the middle of her bright greeting and ducked away quickly. Was it coincidence that he'd been having the concern that she said it so plainly now? He should be happy that she didn't feel dependant on him, really; he should be, so why did it sting? He swallowed moisture into his throat.
“Every time you've been given the chance,” his mouth felt dry. “To go, or to stay away, or to live somewhere else.... you always choose to come back, to me. Even when... Even when it seems like the worst choice you could make, and everyone thinks you shouldn't and don't deserve... this.” Too late, he realised that she probably hadn't meant her words like that, at all, and he was jumping to a dramatic conclusion without thinking... but it was something that he had worried about, so he pushed the thought onward anyway. “Lyntael; it was easy to accept when I thought of you as a program – it was just how you were made and it ultimately didn't matter so long as you served your purpose... but now... I don't want you to feel... trapped with me.”
On his screen, Lyntael had swiftly drawn in on herself for a moment or two, radiating sudden regret, but she also hadn't cut him off with any kind of rapid dismissal or reassurance. Perhaps she hadn't meant to say it that way, but he felt as though she must have had the thoughts regardless. Eventually, he saw her rub at her neck and try to shake herself out.
“I don't, Rogan, I promise I don't.” She had started walking again, and somehow that simple action was more reassuring to him than the words. “I didn't mean it that way, and I really do want to be here, now, with you, helping. I swear it, I do. It's my choice, and it will always be my choice, Rogan, so long as you want me around, or I feel like you need me.” He nodded, even though she couldn't see. She wanted to help him, and she wanted to stay if he let her... but she didn't need him, not like she had once. He ought to feel glad for her about that. He didn't. Soft giggling broke him out of the thought spiral.
“And unless you look after yourself better, that second one will be true forever.” He could see her smile, but there was something in it that made him think she still felt bad about the indelicate exchange. He should be happy for her, though... Rogan tried a soft chuckle in return.
“I suppose that's true. In a little while perhaps, I may need to sort out some things here soon regardless.” It wasn't strictly true, but he could find an excuse to disconnect her, if it was what she really felt like she needed. It still made him shudder internally when he thought about all the times she'd spent away from the PET and disconnected from any safety, out on her own without him even knowing. She knew how to take care of herself, without him. It was what he'd always told her he needed, wasn't it? It didn't feel good.
posted in Beach Street •
She demonstrated with swift efficiency once again that, when it came down to it these days, she didn't really need his help any more. There was no question that she'd been desperate for it in the early days, but he did wonder... Eric's accusation drifted up in his mind again; he'd given Lyntael to him because he thought Rogan needed her – the gift of a brother worried about his sibling – but the words he'd spoken after it was too late; that she'd needed him as well... He'd known the idea was there, when the whole arrangement had started, but he'd only really looked at her physical difficulties, and how she struggled, and he'd scoffed at Eric's awkward play. Well, she definitely didn't need his help in physical function any more... a sneaking thought slipped into his mind; after everything, it really seemed like she didn't truly need him emotionally any more either. Perhaps the opportunity for that kind of mutual benefit had passed, and he'd missed it. It surprised him, how uncomfortable the thought made itself. She'd reached out when he wasn't listening, and she'd found her own strength now instead. She wanted to be here for him, or so she said, but she didn't seem to need his support in return, not any more. Was he over-thinking it? This was why he avoided leaving his mind idle...
“Ah! Don't you dare, not again—!” Lyntael's frustrated shout drew his eyes back to the screen and without thinking he flicked the view back to a proper visual to see what was going on. Immediately, he turned his eyes to the side, shielding the screen from general view as he caught sight of the girl struggling to dress herself quickly again in the shallow water. The fight, at least, was done with, and her no worse for wear. When his peripheral vision told him she as done adjusting her clothes, Rogan looked back, then suppressed a sigh. Well, it was a beach, at least, and as long as he didn't draw the screen in closer, it didn't really show off the fact that her undergarments weren't nearly as opaque as a swimsuit when they were damp. She seemed to be moving on, just in her vest and underwear, apparently unperturbed. He opened the channel but didn't immediately find a way to ask if she was alright. Was there a good way to ask if she was too embarrassed, without amplifying any such feelings with the attention? After another moment or two he cleared his throat quietly.
“Lyntael. I... assume you're content to continue?” His fingers moved to hover above the commands he'd need to reinitialise her clothing, but he didn't press anything yet for fear of leaving the poor girl exposed again unexpectedly. On screen, Lyntael seemed nonchalant.
“I'm fine, Rogan.” He believed her, but again he found himself wondering if there wasn't some subtle ulterior motive to her risky behaviour. She got indignant and flustered, but it happened far too frequently and... he contemplated looking back at her more in-depth vitals again, before second-hand embarrassment stopped him... he had a suspicion there was some part of her that found these kinds of accidents exciting. He tried not to assess whether there was any disappointment in her voice as she claimed to have been expecting a more complete malfunction.
Instead, he listened and watched as she wandered down the beach on his screen, one not dissimilar to the scene before him, saving only that it was more barren; she seemed to be content, but as she mused about finding her balance, Rogan found himself wishing he could find the peace about everything that had happened that she seemed to be cultivating.
“I feel like I still need... I don't know...” There was a sense of frustration and uncertainty in her words as she tried to pin down what she meant; Rogan quickly gestured for another of the same with his glass towards the waitress that was moving in his direction, stopping her from actually approaching his table. The last thing he wanted was being picked up on improper browsing in public while his navi was trying to have a serious conversation.
“It doesn't feel quite... quite like I fit myself, not yet. I don't know how to explain it any better. Like there's so much here, but I don't quite know how to express it properly. And there's pressure still...” He'd heard her mention that before as well, though he still wasn't sure what it meant, exactly.
“I... Rogan...?”
“Hmm?”
“Could you... could you disconnect from me, for a little while? Stay with me, and keep watching, but...” Had they reached a point where it only felt right when she was out exploring or busting, if she was disconnected from her PET and alone? Rogan caught himself frowning and stopped.
“Lyntael, I know it maybe what you've grown used to, and I'll still need to do it for our work, but at this point, I'd rather not have you untethered unless it is necessary.” He meant it as a reassurance, but it didn't seem to have the effect he'd hoped for. Lyntael paused, glancing down and clasping her hands like a child asking for sweets.
“Please, Rogan. You'll still be with me, and you can patch up again right away if I get in trouble, can't you? I just... I feel like I need this. I need to be... free.” Rogan flinched as she finished, and the waitress delivering his drink stopped in the middle of her bright greeting and ducked away quickly. Was it coincidence that he'd been having the concern that she said it so plainly now? He should be happy that she didn't feel dependant on him, really; he should be, so why did it sting? He swallowed moisture into his throat.
“Every time you've been given the chance,” his mouth felt dry. “To go, or to stay away, or to live somewhere else.... you always choose to come back, to me. Even when... Even when it seems like the worst choice you could make, and everyone thinks you shouldn't and don't deserve... this.” Too late, he realised that she probably hadn't meant her words like that, at all, and he was jumping to a dramatic conclusion without thinking... but it was something that he had worried about, so he pushed the thought onward anyway. “Lyntael; it was easy to accept when I thought of you as a program – it was just how you were made and it ultimately didn't matter so long as you served your purpose... but now... I don't want you to feel... trapped with me.”
On his screen, Lyntael had swiftly drawn in on herself for a moment or two, radiating sudden regret, but she also hadn't cut him off with any kind of rapid dismissal or reassurance. Perhaps she hadn't meant to say it that way, but he felt as though she must have had the thoughts regardless. Eventually, he saw her rub at her neck and try to shake herself out.
“I don't, Rogan, I promise I don't.” She had started walking again, and somehow that simple action was more reassuring to him than the words. “I didn't mean it that way, and I really do want to be here, now, with you, helping. I swear it, I do. It's my choice, and it will always be my choice, Rogan, so long as you want me around, or I feel like you need me.” He nodded, even though she couldn't see. She wanted to help him, and she wanted to stay if he let her... but she didn't need him, not like she had once. He ought to feel glad for her about that. He didn't. Soft giggling broke him out of the thought spiral.
“And unless you look after yourself better, that second one will be true forever.” He could see her smile, but there was something in it that made him think she still felt bad about the indelicate exchange. He should be happy for her, though... Rogan tried a soft chuckle in return.
“I suppose that's true. In a little while perhaps, I may need to sort out some things here soon regardless.” It wasn't strictly true, but he could find an excuse to disconnect her, if it was what she really felt like she needed. It still made him shudder internally when he thought about all the times she'd spent away from the PET and disconnected from any safety, out on her own without him even knowing. She knew how to take care of herself, without him. It was what he'd always told her he needed, wasn't it? It didn't feel good.