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6. Bombay (open spam plus privates for Iris and Sylvanas)
[Open spam]
[He sits on the deck, legs crossed and feet bare, sketching endlessly. His hands will always be as deft as they were when he died, steady and inhumanly precise from years of minute neural surgery too revolutionary at the time for medical drones to have any programming for it. It's his mind that needs the toil, needs to entrain itself again by focusing on all the details his memory can supply. So he draws, cityscapes of thriving worlds, the landmarks of odd and extravagant cultures, nuanced portraits of steadfast servants and political challengers alike.
Sometimes, when he looks up, he gets a little lost in the deep blackness beyond the barge, eyes fading to the distance until the striped marmalade cat gamboling near him headbutts his elbow and yowls for attention. He stutters when it happens, then smiles and scratches Mel's ears, forcing himself to concentrate again in spite of the terrible pressure of darkness held above and around him by whatever invisible dam.]
[Spam for anyone who might be in the laboratory.]
[He investigates the various samples from Megamind's world with obvious fascination, alternating between gross morphological examination, pouring over gene sequences, and plugging the occasional piece of data onto a rough planetary ecology simulation program he hashed out on one of the terminals. He lapses into something like an academic fugue after a little while, lost to the world beyond the information he's processing, unaware of time passing.]
[Private to Iris]
We have some information prepared for you. Let us know where and when you'd like to meet.
[Spam for Sylvanas]
[He knocks on her door the day after the return from port.]
Special delivery for Lady Sylvanas.
[He sits on the deck, legs crossed and feet bare, sketching endlessly. His hands will always be as deft as they were when he died, steady and inhumanly precise from years of minute neural surgery too revolutionary at the time for medical drones to have any programming for it. It's his mind that needs the toil, needs to entrain itself again by focusing on all the details his memory can supply. So he draws, cityscapes of thriving worlds, the landmarks of odd and extravagant cultures, nuanced portraits of steadfast servants and political challengers alike.
Sometimes, when he looks up, he gets a little lost in the deep blackness beyond the barge, eyes fading to the distance until the striped marmalade cat gamboling near him headbutts his elbow and yowls for attention. He stutters when it happens, then smiles and scratches Mel's ears, forcing himself to concentrate again in spite of the terrible pressure of darkness held above and around him by whatever invisible dam.]
[Spam for anyone who might be in the laboratory.]
[He investigates the various samples from Megamind's world with obvious fascination, alternating between gross morphological examination, pouring over gene sequences, and plugging the occasional piece of data onto a rough planetary ecology simulation program he hashed out on one of the terminals. He lapses into something like an academic fugue after a little while, lost to the world beyond the information he's processing, unaware of time passing.]
[Private to Iris]
We have some information prepared for you. Let us know where and when you'd like to meet.
[Spam for Sylvanas]
[He knocks on her door the day after the return from port.]
Special delivery for Lady Sylvanas.