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maskormenacelogs2017-04-25 10:06 pm
shootsharp) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-04-25 10:06 pm
Entry tags:
closed.
WHO: Teddy Flood and Nick Valentine.
WHERE: Maurtia Falls.
WHEN: Late April.
WHAT: Just a couple of robots being dudes.
WARNINGS: As ever, Westworld spoilers.
[ It doesn't snow where Teddy Flood comes from.
Maybe, at one point, it would have been enough to break him, as if white noise itself were falling down from the heavens. Call it exposure, call it the subtle adjustments at the hand of Tony Stark, or even attribute it to Chilton's insistence on what made him a unique individual, but some capacity for new things seems permitted to travel on through synthetic synapses without a hitch.
His horse is a simpler creature. Made of the same material but unbothered, differently, from the unseasonable fall of ice. Hooves scrape and clop along the cold, cold pavement, tossing her head against the sharp wind. On her back, Teddy is likewise impervious to the cold in a way he doesn't seem to notice -- a three piece suit is constructed of relatively light materials while those around him rush to get out of the cold, bundled up in puffy jackets and scarves, irritated enough by winter's comeback to barely give the cowboy astride his noble steed a second glance.
And some of the locals might well be used to him by now.
He gets down off his horse as he comes up to a display. The travel agency is closed, but photographs of all American vistas help promote their half-price domestic rates for the summer. Some get scanned, but it's really the rolling red plains and rocky formations of Arizona that catch Teddy's eye. Holding onto his horse's reins idly, he stands in front of it, squinting through his own reflection. ]
WHERE: Maurtia Falls.
WHEN: Late April.
WHAT: Just a couple of robots being dudes.
WARNINGS: As ever, Westworld spoilers.
[ It doesn't snow where Teddy Flood comes from.
Maybe, at one point, it would have been enough to break him, as if white noise itself were falling down from the heavens. Call it exposure, call it the subtle adjustments at the hand of Tony Stark, or even attribute it to Chilton's insistence on what made him a unique individual, but some capacity for new things seems permitted to travel on through synthetic synapses without a hitch.
His horse is a simpler creature. Made of the same material but unbothered, differently, from the unseasonable fall of ice. Hooves scrape and clop along the cold, cold pavement, tossing her head against the sharp wind. On her back, Teddy is likewise impervious to the cold in a way he doesn't seem to notice -- a three piece suit is constructed of relatively light materials while those around him rush to get out of the cold, bundled up in puffy jackets and scarves, irritated enough by winter's comeback to barely give the cowboy astride his noble steed a second glance.
And some of the locals might well be used to him by now.
He gets down off his horse as he comes up to a display. The travel agency is closed, but photographs of all American vistas help promote their half-price domestic rates for the summer. Some get scanned, but it's really the rolling red plains and rocky formations of Arizona that catch Teddy's eye. Holding onto his horse's reins idly, he stands in front of it, squinting through his own reflection. ]
no subject
He's pretty good at shrugging off the stares and the gasps and whispers from back in the Commonwealth. In fact, it's even easier to shrug them off here, as they're always more curious than they are frightened. And nobody in Maurtia Falls has ever threatened to take him apart or run screaming at the sight of him. So hey, big plus.
Valentine's memories are fuzzy, but he's pretty sure that snow in April is unseasonable in this part of the country. But it's also the first time he--Nick-- has ever seen snow at all, so he's enjoying a quiet evening walk down the street, looking painfully noir as he passes through the streetlights, gazing up at the snowflakes.
Huh. He's also pretty sure that a man riding a horse down the street is unseasonable in this part of the country.
Though of course, maybe it's not so strange at all. Maeve wouldn't think it was strange at all. Takes all types around here, doesn't it?
As he passes the man beside the horse, he gives the horse a little berth to keep from spooking it. Glowing yellow eyes peer out from under the brim of Nick's hat as he tilts it in greeting.]
Evening.
no subject
Evenin', [ is what he says, on only a slight delay.
His horse is far less concerned, and has her head down low, nosing at some gathered ice, nostrils a-flare. As much as some natural wariness stiffens in Teddy's spine, he doesn't hover his hand at the sidearm visible low at his hip, though lord knows he is just about always aware of it.
Then again, who's to say this stranger's any stranger than this entire version of America on the whole? The street lamps, the hover cars, the satellites like moving stars? ]
Take it you ain't from around here either.
no subject
[It's a gentle tease, and Nick offers as much of a smile as he can manage with a pre-formed half-wrecked plastic-and-metal face.
He turns his attention to the, uh... horse, still keeping a wide berth from her. She doesn't seem to care about the weird person, but he wants to keep it that way and keep from startling her.]
I couldn't help but notice your friend. Haven't seen one of these models in quite a while.
[That smile turns into a smirk.]
How's the gas mileage?
no subject
He sidesteps alongside the horse's shoulder. She's a dusty brown, match made with his own colours of nondescript grey on nondescript grey, and he lays a hand against her neck in a reassuring pat, which she doesn't particularly need. Horses aren't programmed to be, well, robots -- they skitter and startle just like they ought to, but generally with a preset range of stimuli. They never covered androids with their mechanics exposed.
His head tips at that question, reconfigures it internally in a way that makes sense to him, and rolls out the appropriate line; ]
This old girl? She's a working horse who never had a lick've cow sense, so I was told. But she don't spook easy, and she's about as fast as any bandit wish she weren't.
[ There are no bandits here. Not really. No ranches, either. Under his hand, the robotic mare's baking heat raises steam in frigid air. ]
Horse's ain't the way of it, here, I guess.
no subject
Can't imagine it's easy to find parking for her in a place like this, either.
[Curiosity is getting the better of him, but it'd be a little weird to immediately ask a guy if he happens to know Nick's other friend with a rather Western bent.]
I take it there are a lot more horses and a lot more bandits where you're from.
no subject
His smile is thin, small. ]
That ain't the half of it. [ He looks back at the window, their photographs, and points to the red deserts depicted there. ] Lot more of that, too.
[ But it doesn't soak in his attention, and his expression grows just a touch more-- well, not troubled, and not quite confused, either. Like he's trying to puzzle out a thing he's not sure needs it. Best just to ask. ]
Can I ask you a personal question, mister?
no subject
[Nick's a city slicker through and through. In as much as the Commonwealth counts as a "city" anymore. But neither Boston nor Chicago had the kind of landscapes depicted in the pictures, either before or after the war.
He smirks as the cowboy looks at him, and fully expects the question coming up. Or its topic, at least.]
Sure. I don't mind.
no subject
Enough that there is apology in his own wry smile in return, replacing hat where it belongs. Teddy is Fully Aware that his question is stupid, but one he needs to ask all the same. ]
S'pose I ought to ask your name, first.
[ It's only good manners. ]
no subject
He just has a special appreciation by now for the people who at least try to be polite about it.]
Name's Valentine. Nick Valentine. And yourself?
no subject
[ He's not a handshaker, by nature, content in distance and without acclimation to the kinds of modern social cues that his programmers thought needless for a loner gunslinger. A tip of his hat will do.
Now he needs to find a way to ask 'what's wrong with your face' without putting it quite that way. ]
How'd you come to look like you do?
no subject
That is the exact question he was expecting, though. Normally, he'd give the hilarious "I'm a detective" answer instead, but he doesn't feel like jerking the guy around too much before introducing himself properly.]
Well, near as I can tell it's been well over a century since they assembled me. Long time like that out in the wasteland back home'll take the shine off of anything.
[He reaches up and runs a skeletal metal finger along the busted skin of his face.]
The newer synths are made to last a little better than my line.