"We parted ways some time ago. I don't know what became of him." He shook his head. "He is...far less reticent about taking life and using people than I am. I wish to meddle in the affairs of mortals as little as possible. You can understand why we no longer travel together."
"Interact with, yes. Meddle? Only in so far that corporations are legally considered people for whatever reason and are supposedly mortal due to their ability to be bankrupt or foreclosed or...whatever." Things. But play with people like dolls?
That's been done to him. To Delta. No thank you. "I get it, though. I promise no meddling or murder from me because, I'm...kinda over. All of that."
Or else he might still be lying there dying, is the unspoken end of that sentence, but it's a moot point. York isn't there, he's here, and Locus trusts that he's the sort to avoid violence and manipulation where possible.
Locus spends a moment or two more taking him in. The way his eyes have cleared, the sharpness in his movements that betrays the AIs presence.
"Your goals seem admirable ones. I would like to see you accomplish them."
"It beats petty theft just to eat. Now it'll be...petty stalking and seducing to eat." He blinks, thoughts slamming into a wall and-
Oh.
OH god that just occurred to him. "...I'm gonna have to work on my pick up lines, aren't I?"
If he's gonna do the swing into a bar/club/etc and find a way to eat. Oh wonderful. Delta's laughing at him in the back of his mind and his shoulders slump inward, hand slipping up to grind against his- still good eye. Both. Both are good now.
"That depends." He shrugs mildly. "I've had little trouble in not saying much. People project a great deal if you allow them to."
All he has to do is be present, those bright eyes in some dark room, and someone will come along. They think he's mysterious, stoic, something to try and puzzle out. A challenge. When he guides them to a back corner, it feels like winning to them.
He's not sure how they feel when they realize he's gone, but it's not a question of consequence, either.
"Yeah, but you got tall dark and handsome going for you. Me I got-" And again he has to stop and rub the formerly scarred side of his face to remind himself that the usual handicap is no longer a handicap.
"...no bum eye or weird scar. Holy shit I'm hot again, I can get away with cheesy bullshit." Because if you're gonna promise fun, why not be funny while you're doing it? He can swing that. It's much less pressure than trying to be sincere when all you want is a dance and maybe someone to lean on for a little while.
"Weird as hell?" He looks back up to Locus, shrugging. "I mean- I got used to the eye because I had to. I keep thinking it should be disorienting but it. Isn't. I keep thinking I should be freaking out but I'm...not. This is. I died. I legit died for a little bit there." Okay maybe he's freaking out about that a little, hands tense in his hair before they go still and he goes calm and-
"...Okay well that explains it. Delta's helping me cheat. I am gonna be okay with that because having an emotional and existential breakdown sounds kinda exhausting, don't you think?"
"It wouldn't be surprising. You've been coping with the change quite well. Better than I did."
Slowly, Locus picks himself up from the seat, moving back towards York. Yes, the seeds of tension are there, and they have a right to be. But they don't have to belong there, either. "Everything dies. Eventually. You would have died today regardless. Now, you have the opportunity to stand on the other side of death, and continue on."
"Again: Cheating with live in light up clippy." There's a semi audible mutter from the helmet's speakers as that's the only hardware Delta's got to work with at the moment, but York self corrects accordingly. "Live in partner that's good at keeping his shit together."
For which he is immensely grateful. Also for being saved.
He nods in agreement. York's 'partner' had not seemed overly pleased with him, but he's not terribly concerned at the moment. The AI will have due time to adjust to the state of things, and realize what Locus did was in York's best interests.
"...if there is any way to assist in making the transition more bearable, I will do what I can."
"...It's gonna sound dumb." Which normally isn't something he worries about but- brand new person when he's forgotten a lot of the nuances in how to get people to do what he wants without it being overly manipulative or weird- and someone he's gonna be with for. Well.
Ever.
Delta's voice crackles over the helmet's speaker. He requires physical contact to ground him. We are both somewhat concerned this is an elaborate post mortem hallucination due to the fantastic nature of your and now his existence.
Delta should know better. He was present when York died, and then returned. An AI should not be concerned about hallucinating anything. But York himself? One look at him and he knows it's entirely possible that it's every bit as surreal as it had been for Locus, all those years ago.
The Armor was programmed to delete me upon his death. And what is he if not a digital mind? Minds can hallucinate if pressed to the breaking point- and losing York? Would surpass that point for Delta.
York sighs and leans forward, resting his cheek against Locus' palm rather than take it with his hand like, well, a normal person. This is- it's gonna have to be good enough.
That's...not what he'd expected, and it shows. Locus appears more than slightly startled, watching as York presses the curve of his cheek to his palm. 'Touch', Delta had said, but he hadn't specified.
"I was uncertain the manner of touch you would find suitable," he finally manages, after a moment of perplexed blinking.
"I'm gonna tell you now so you're less surprised in the future. I'm a tactile kind of person and I've just spent the past five and some change years completely isolated to keep myself and Delta safe." He's touch starved, in short.
The hand on his neck earlier had been the only thing keeping him centered and sane during the change. A point of contact. Proof he wasn't alone.
He's never been one for touch. Isolation had suited him, to a degree, and while he can slide by on the sort of touching required to lure in willing meal, this is another matter entirely.
"What would you prefer?"
Straightforward, blunt, honest. Something York is going to have to get used to, in turn.
"...Fair point. Have a seat, I'll settle where I'm comfortable." As he's not in armor, it'll be easier for him. Not as good as against a body that's not wrapped in armor but- he's fallen asleep in weirder places.
The questioning look continues, but eventually he shifts to seat himself on the edge of the bed, still in his own armor and looking both baffled and curious by York's request. He'd expected maybe a lean, a hug at worst.
What was he planning? What had he actually gotten himself into, turning this Freelancer?
Leaning, sure. Hug? Sure. But there had been relatively recent trauma and that awareness in the back of his head still aches for more constant contact with Locus in a way he's not looking at too hard at the moment.
So he settles himself more or less on Locus' lap, forehead butted up against the underside of his jaw, surrounded by his smell and presence and- it feels safe. It feels right. What anxious tension that had been in him, in Delta? Melts away as soon as he's tucked up close.
He's not sure what to do about this, truth be told. This is closer than he's been to anyone he isn't actively feeding on in quite some time, and it feels like affection, in some weird way. But he can also feel York relax the moment he's tucked against him.
Maybe this is simply what's required. Perhaps turning has made certain needs stand out even more starkly. It's possible. He's heard of such things, at least.
So he lets an arm curl around York's shoulders. It can't be that comfortable, but. It seems the thing to do. "Is this helping?"
"Yeah. Thanks." It's more than he'd try for or want or even think he could get with anyone other than, well. Someone he was gonna have sex with or North. Whom he probably won't ever see again because.
Vampire.
Okay the reality of the situation might be sinking in, but words. They should be a thing. "Am I supposed to...feel you? Like a pull in the back of my head."
A desire to be near him because Locus right now means Safety. Means Protection and Security and all those little things that make his lizard brain go mellow and happy.
Questions. Questions he can deal with more readily than this effort to offer physical contact and support. He'll try to get better at it, if it turns out to be a thing he needs regularly.
Time will tell.
"Hm. I did feel something like that when I was turned. I suspect the blood creates a bond, at least for a time." York literally bore a part of him inside of him, flowing through his veins. That he should feel his presence and a connection to him seemed logical enough.
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