[Not Mr. Spock, sorry. But the guy staying carefully out of roped-into-demonstrations range has got one hell of a scifi circuitboard-sword propped up beside him. Watching the caricatured proceedings with a kind of wary amusement that mostly (mostly) covers up the quiet edge of discomfort it dredges up with the confirmation of casual continued NPC surveillance. Close-but-no-cigar likeness or not—all that bad offbrand impression comes from somewhere. Unsurprising, sure. But he's still not too big on the idea.
More of a personal problem, though. For Bev's benefit, he cocks a brow at her choice in words—even being from a stupid scifi canon doesn't mean people beep and boop their way through life—but, wryly—]
Got to say, kind of reminds me of someone.
[Though he won't necessarily dox the guilty party to a stranger, Richie probably doesn't deserve that rep. (Not to mention his recent untimely death and resurrection ought to kind of put a damper on the humor. But, y'know. Time dilation. Test drives.) A beat, as Mitchie scares off his current gaggle of npc normies and lights a cigarette with a swagger on his way over to a new one as the demo begins anew—]
...grain of salt. Wonder who's writing this garbage.
2beep or not 2beep
More of a personal problem, though. For Bev's benefit, he cocks a brow at her choice in words—even being from a stupid scifi canon doesn't mean people beep and boop their way through life—but, wryly—]
Got to say, kind of reminds me of someone.
[Though he won't necessarily dox the guilty party to a stranger, Richie probably doesn't deserve that rep. (Not to mention his recent untimely death and resurrection ought to kind of put a damper on the humor. But, y'know. Time dilation. Test drives.) A beat, as Mitchie scares off his current gaggle of npc normies and lights a cigarette with a swagger on his way over to a new one as the demo begins anew—]
...grain of salt. Wonder who's writing this garbage.