syntech | Inbox: Upcycled

[Normally, it's a thing that gets him through the day. That hasn't been the case for three months now, but for four years prior... Well. It's hard to unlearn habits.

He feels a little bad, dismissing her concerns outright. So he doesn't, exactly.]

{I might take you up on that sometime. Not something I talk much about to others, and this place monitors us enough already.}

[He is... Thoroughly distracted by the tube, though. More specifically, by the sight of the drawing itself. For a long time, he is... very quiet. There's nothing negative about that silence, though - his expression is slightly pained, maybe even slightly guilty, but that could easily be residual factors.

It's... he doesn't even have words, really. As someone with no fine arts skill himself, there is a lot to admire, and his gaze softens for the first time in a while. Beautiful, certainly - and he wonders how long it's been. Since he smiled like that. Maybe, when he--- well.

It doesn't matter, in the end. What she's captured is something he would love to be. Someone deserving of that kind of attention. And he wonders what drives her, what sort of muse she has, what sort of things she sees in the world.]

... I don't mind them at all. [His voice is quiet, almost... reverent? Something like it.] I'm glad I could inspire you like this. [A pause, then, like he's really not sure if he should accept.] You're sure you want to give this to me?

[ Her ears perk up lightly when he mentions monitoring but by then she's passed her gift on. She can always bring it up at a later date, she was already running under the assumption that they're being carefully monitored.

She tries not to watch as he unfurls it, as he looks over it; tries not to read his expression or the shape of his lips or the emotions that linger in his gaze. She prays he doesn't notice the little things she sees as mistakes, the dark spots or the smudges or the little things that don't matter but do for any artist.

When he finally speaks, she finally breathes, only then realizing she'd been holding it in her lungs until it made her chest tingle. At the question, she just shakes her head. ]

It's a gift, Ethan. Remember, a thanks. [ She shrugs her shoulders, leaning back into her seat. ] Plus, it looks like you could use... I dunno, something nice.

[ Or a distraction from whatever bullshit he's dealing with. ]

... Yeah, that's true. I'm not used to those.

[That probably says something. He doesn't know what he'll do with it yet, but he'll figure something out. For now, he rolls the drawing back up, fingers taking care to ensure that it's curled neatly and securely.]

That's... probably fair, yeah. It's very nice, at that. [His smile is soft, finally, a beat of distraction into the... hurtling reminder that he is criminally bad at things like small talk.] Ah... speaking of. How have you been? It occurs to me that I'm awful at... keeping up with people.

[He sounds a little sheepish, though really, it's just fact. At least he's not the only awkward one in these conversations, though.]

[ He's not used to gifts; the little fact makes her heart ache in a way that was uncomfortably familiar. What kind of people did they decide to gather on this island?

That small smile he offers is enough to settle the nagging, annoying self-conscious worry she'd given him something awful. This is the first time she's ever given out a piece of her own work—beyond the parental figure, that is. Most of her work is tucked away. Most of her work isn't beautiful like what she'd just gifted Ethan but she'd felt something, wanted to create something for someone else.

His question makes her smile awkwardly, a tiny laugh escaping from her lips, raising a single hand as if to wave off his follow-up. ] If it helps, you're not the only one awful at it. I'm still trying to get used to the whole... getting to know people thing.

[ Like him, she's not sure how to answer his question and so just... skips over it. These two deserve awards for their level of awkward. ]

[At least it gives them something in common. And he notes the skip, but hell if he minds. Small talk is awkward at best. He's still fiddling with the paper, something to occupy his hands; it's at this point that he actually realises he's just... slipped back into speech. It's weird, he'd not had that habit before.

This place has certainly been Something, though.]

A bit, admittedly. It's always nice to know you're not the only one. It feels ironic, though. I'm used to knowing a lot about everyone, back home. Important for my job and all. Didn't want to be near anyone, though.

[Despite it all, they carry on a conversation alright, don't they? Just sort of wandering from one subject to the next. Offering little bits of information without really getting into the deeper feelings of the situations.]

[ It's nice to have someone she can relate to on a level, even if it's just something as inane as poor social skills. ]

What is it you did? [ She doesn't want to pry too much. She's still testing the waters here, testing how much she can ask, and how much she wants to even know. Surprisingly, she kind of wants to know more about Ethan. It's a strange feeling. ]

Ah... well. I'm a hacker, mostly.

[That, he's been fairly forthcoming about in person. There's a lot he'll say, at this point, compared to that first month.]

Mostly, we're part of a group that works to expose shady dealings in companies that are otherwise untouchable. Everything's supposed to be publicly known, after all, by the laws back home. When somebody violates that, it's usually for pretty shitty reasons.

Sounds like you do good shit. [ Morally, it sounds. She leans forward, clearly interested. She hadn't had any expectations but there's something about exposing shady dealings in untouchable companies that just sounds kind of cool. She seems less awkward the more they talk, easing up a little. ]

Is your group involved with law enforcement or the government? [ Or is this more... outside those particular realms? ]

I try, anyway. Sometimes it feels like there's just too many to ever manage, but hey. Gotta do what good we can, right?

[The question itself makes him laugh, a short bark of a thing.]

No, we're... definitely considered vigilantes. Honestly, my boss is the only reason we're viewed in a positive light, considering what we do is basically terrorism. Most of us are willing to do whatever it takes, without a lot of limits, to protect people who don't know or don't want to believe what these people do.

[He knows what he's doing and how it's viewed, anyway.]

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