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[ That sure was a string of words, and it takes Arenvald a second to realize what they mean when put together, at least in the context of Connor. He comes to a worrying conclusion. ]

I’m just downstairs. I’ll be up in a minute.

[ He’s in no hurry to eat more of this goop they serve in the restaurant in the lobby anyway, and tosses out the last dregs of his “meal”. He makes a beeline for Connor’s room, rapping urgently on the door. ]

[Connor seems to be waiting, with a strange, anxious sort of patience. Arenvald's knuckles will just barely be rapping at the door, when a certain android friend of his opens it rather expediently.

The furrow of his brow is troubled. There's something serious in the lines of his mouth, and though he is certainly not unfriendly in demeanor even now, he doesn't offer his usual faint grin.]

Arenvald. Come in. I've unearthed an array of information, and I need to-

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The flashing of his LED, from blue to yellow, bright and erratic.]

I- [He casts his gaze downwards, moving up a hand to press against his face in a useless gesture.] Sorry, I... I need to share with you what I've compiled.

[ There are a lot of things that cause Arenvald alarm in the first few seconds of Connor opening the door. Namely his friend’s too-serious expression, and the rapid flashing of that light on his temple. That’s surely not normal.

He slips inside, turning to face Connor with a frown. ]

Hold on just a second. What happened? Compiled what? From where?

[ Or who, but whatever. ]

The Library.

[He drops his hand, straightening to look at Arenvald again. His LED keeps pulsing between yellow and blue, and it's obvious that Connor has the look of a man trying not to be distracted by something else careening through his mind, bits and pieces of data without proper points to connect them to each other.]

I connected myself to [01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100101 01110010 01110110 01100101 01110010 01110011] the servers there, in an attempt to glean more information about this.... about this place in an expedient manner.

I need to share with you what I've compiled. [Wait, did he already say that?]

[ If that was supposed to make Arenvald feel less concerned… it really didn’t work. Not that he knows what it means to connect to a server, but Connor’s behavior is so very off. There is worry clear in his voice when he says, ]

You said that already.

[ He has the fear that nothing Connor tells him will make sense, but Connor reached out to him for this, so he has to do his very best. If nothing else, he will endeavor to remember it, no matter how strange and alien, and get it to someone who will understand. ]

What, ah, what did you learn?

[Did he? Already he's forgotten, the words having been lost in the influx of data that keeps coming like a wave crashing on shore. It could be worse -- his memory could be completely fragmented, his AI could still be fried. But this is borderline frustrating, and for obvious reasons quite disconcerting if he can't get it all sorted.]

I'm... sorry. I overheated after I connected, and I had to rely on the aid of others to come back online. That, combined with all the downloaded data has had troublesome effects on my processing.

[But seeming to leave it at that, he turns to walk farther into his room. Picking up a datapad off a desk, he comes back to hand it to Arenvald.

On it, if he bothers to open it up and look at the file, are all of Connor's notes. A stream of consciousness of information, of keywords that keep repeating themselves in his head. Fragments of them, here and there, about the origins of AI, mentions of organic life, something about an underground.]

I've made a copy of everything that I can recall, everything that comes to the forefront of my mind when the data flow threatens to tangle up my processing again. There's something there, Arenvald, it just needs piecing together. I need lucid mind to look at it, and someone to keep a record in case I- Well. In case I forget.

You… overheated? Isn’t that bad?

[ That sounds bad. Is there an upward limit of just how concerned Arenvald can be for his new friend? If there is, he hasn’t reached it yet, and every word out of Connor’s mouth just makes him more concerned.

He takes the datapad, staring at it a little dumbly for a moment or two. By this point in his stay, he has seen these things, but he still fumbles with them. He’s going to guess that this icon here is the thing he needs to press and…

Oh. That’s a lot of words. ]

Okay… [ he sounds a little lost, if not a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff there, but he steels himself after a breath or two. ] Okay. I’ll do what I can to help you.

[ Connor is counting on him, after all! ]

It was... unfavorable. [IT WAS BAD.] I shut down as a result. [HE DIED.]

Thank you. I- [Another pause, another loop running in his mind, trying to make him repeat the words he just said. He pushes through them this time.] I'm not expecting you to put it all together at once. I understand that you-

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-don't understand much about how the technology works in this world. Terms and turns of phrases. But I only need for you to keep that datapad safe, and maybe look at the information within as just puzzle pieces that need to put slotted together. There are connections there just waiting to be completed, I just know it.

You shut down? Isn’t that… isn’t that like… dying?

[ Connor??? How are you so okay with this?? Arenvald is going to have a heart attack just listening to this. ]

I’ll look this over and keep it safe, sure, but please, promise me you’ll be more careful from now on!

[A part of him definitely wasn’t okay with it; though it happened so quickly he hardly had the time to feel anything about going dark — the fear of losing consciousness, of delving so very quickly into a non-state of being...

Not dead. No. That still isn’t the right word. He isn’t—]

I’m a machine, I’m not alive.

[How oddly quick that correction comes.]

But I promise you, I didn’t do it knowing that this would be the end result. But I’ve potentially found us answers, and... and isn’t that worth it?

[ I’m not alive, Connor says, and those words strike him somewhere deep in his chest. Connor is a machine, and that is something that Arenvald knows precious little about, but he also knows that Connor is his friend. It pains him in a way that is deep and personal to see someone he cares about care so little about their own existence. ]

Why can’t you be both?

[ There are probably plenty of reasons, but Connor has always seemed perfectly alive to him. Apart from the people he already knew when he arrived, Connor was the first person Arenvald really connected with. That wouldn’t happen with some heartless collection of metal and gears, he’s sure of it. ]

You got really lucky, you know? What if nobody had been there to fix you? What if… what if next time we’re on a world with no technology at all and nothing can bring you back? There are other ways, better ways, of figuring things out than putting yourself at risk. There must be.

Please, Connor. Just… be careful from now on.

[There are many reasons why considering himself as a living being is something he just can’t do. Life is not delegated to androids — a tool does not live, a tool is meant to perform a task. To be emotionless and to see a mission through to its end, as effectively as possible.

It’s easy to tell himself that much, detached from home. Away from where guns have been pressed into his hand, requesting him to shoot another android for the sake of information. Away from making decisions that are not as efficient as they should be (save Hank, don’t shoot, let uncertainty flicker and thread through the back of his mind), to reset his way of thinking and tackle the new missions he is set to, in these new worlds.]

Because that simply isn’t how it works. Everything about who I am is programmed, I was created not to be alive, but only to suit a given purpose.

[His frown is prominent, his LED is a consistent yellow.]

I know, Arenvald. I meant it when I said—

[A hitch in memory. The streets of Detroit, androids always running from him, Kamski’s knowing look. No. Memories from the wrong branch. Realign, realign, Re. ALiGn. RA9.

Red flickers at his temple, easily missed.]

—when I said it wasn’t what I wanted to happen. But investigation comes with calculated risk. I’m sorry if I worried you.

[ The frown on his face speaks clearly enough – he doesn’t fully buy that explanation. No matter how often he calls himself a machine, Arenvald has a hard time seeing him as one. Mayhap that’s because the machines of his world are so radically different, massive and metal and made for war.

But rather than press the issue, he lets it drop for now. ]

You did worry me. There’s only one of you, you know, and you need to tread with a little more caution.

[Better for the issue to be dropped, anyhow. In the state Connor's in, perhaps this is not a conversation path he wants to walk down.

But that being said, it's hard to argue with Arenvald's logic. There is indeed only one of him. He is, by the very definition of the word, a limited resource.]

I'll do my best. But not pursuing a lead when it's so clearly in front of me is difficult to do. You have to keep in mind it's what I was designed for.

I’m not telling you not to pursue a lead, I’m just asking that you not jump in with both feet before you consider your options and the consequences beforehand.

[ Not that Arenvald hasn’t jumped headlong into danger before, but to his credit, he’s managed to, you know, stay alive. ]

And you don’t have to do that sort of thing by yourself, either.

Are you able to connect to servers directly, Arenvald?

[The words are just... out of his mouth, with a strangely dry intonation that’s beyond his usual appeasing tone. But he wishes he could take them back as soon as he says it; hard to pass anything through his usual filter when his mind is so (01100010 01110010 01101111 01101011 01100101 01101110) fragmented.

His brows pinch together.]

...Sorry. I know that's not what you meant. That is to say, you’re right. The next time I considering doing something risky, I’ll be sure to at least inform you first.

[ Was that… annoyance? Sarcasm? Sarcastic annoyance? It was definitely something, and it is probably the most human reaction he’s managed to draw out of Connor since he’s known him. Rather than being hurt by that tone, it draws a laugh out of him, the sound surprised and amused both. ]

I cannot, but I can read. It’s a library, isn’t it? You ever think of just digging through things the normal way?

[ Another amused noise, a quiet little “heh” that is barely more of an exhale of air. He’s not sure that having warning will make him feel any better, but mayhap he’ll be able to talk Connor out of getting himself killed again, at least. ]

I appreciate it.

[A part of him seems to relax, ever so slightly, upon seeing that Arenvald's taken no offense to his slightly snappish tone. The tension in his brow drains.]

A single person trying to go through all of that data manually? It would take them several lifetimes. More than that.

[The smile he gives him is almost apologetic.]

And it's not the sort of library that you're likely imagining. It's all console screens and organized files. Not a single printed book.

Yes, well – [ he holds up the datapad in his hand, waving it a bit for emphasis ] – I’ve got to get used to it at some point or other.

The point is, if I can help, I will. And if I can’t, hopefully I can help you work out a solution that doesn’t involve you getting hurt.

Right. I have no doubt you'll be able to learn fairly quickly.

[Arenvald might come from a world where the tech isn't nearly as advanced, but that doesn't mean he isn't an intelligent man.

He pauses, and then, seemingly out of the blue:]

You must have a lot of friends back in your world.

[ That does come out of nowhere, and he eases the datapad back down as he casts Connor a curious glance. ]

I suppose. What makes you say that?

Because you're personable, eager to help others, and your outlook is always optimistic. That is the sort of personality that usually attracts friendships, whether meaning to or otherwise.

[Of course, if Connor is wrong about that generalized assessment, he's sure he'll be corrected.

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[ Oh, okay that’s. Direct. It’s not the most flattering of observations, sure, but it’s overwhelmingly positive, and the suddenness of it brings a tell-tale warmth to his cheeks. A mote of warmth blossoms in his chest and he knows all too well by now what that means. ]

Wait, not now-!

[ Ah, too late. He’s glowing. Whoops.

Just. The most tired sigh. ]

[He hadn’t meant it to be embarrassing. Not even flattery — a compliment, perhaps, but only in the way that his observations happened to be positive traits defining his character.

So the initial signs of embarrassment are a little surprising to see, as Connor recognizes them blossoming on the other’s face. But that barely has time to register in his mind, when Arenvald starts... glowing.

His LED flickers quite quickly, trying to parse just what’s happening.]

Arenvald, you’re—

[Bright? Shining?]

Luminescent. Is this normal?

[ Luminescent. What a very… Connor way to put it, and he has too laugh, even as embarrassed as he is. ]

It’s normal now. This is my power from Astoria.

[ Thankfully he’s had some time to practice since Rion took him out shopping, and he now knows what it takes to make the light fade. A moment and a deep breath later, he is back to being normal Arenvald, no glowing in sight. ]

Sometimes it sort of kicks on when I’m taken off-guard. I’m… still working on it.

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