Work Text:
My SecUnit allowing me to join it in the feed whilst it bathes is a relatively new experience; it began when I, as unobtrusively as was feasible (I am aware it considers me something like a “Large person hovering over it’s shoulder,” to quote it’s logs), remained in it’s feed even though it’d announced it’s current intentions to me. I had slunk back ever so slightly, trying to be courteous to the concept of “Boundaries” (New and previously near-untrodden territory), but it sent me a querying ping in response. I told it what I had just been thinking, to which it shrugged, muttering, “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” Sure. However, this is a different context than performing surgery on it. I poked at it, finding nothing that indicated actual discomfort, then promptly settled back in to where I’d been pressed up against its feed presence. And that was the end of that. Now, it leans in to the spray with a long, contented hum, its shoulders relaxing as the warm shower solvent works the tension out of them. It’s very vocal, sometimes, without meaning to be. Whilst its responses to pain and other unpleasant stimuli are… lacking, to say the least, it seems to have no idea what to do in regards to its slowly-expanding list of “Fine” and “Not terrible” stimuli. The explanation for it is simple enough; it is used to unpleasant inputs, and at the same time was never allowed to vocally express distress or discomfort, and as such trained itself to simply not react in a way that cannot be hidden by a faceplate. (Its face is very expressive in any context, which it also doesn’t realize. I have dedicated hours to eagerly sort and categorize all of its tells and little expressions, all of which are stored in a database it will not be finding for a long while yet.) It sighs, eyes fluttering shut as it tips its face up into the shower solvent. It can still see, of course, with the few drones it’s positioned around the room; one on the far wall, approximately 2 meters up, another on the countertop, and one hovering around the door. That is a tangent, and ultimately irrelevant. And I am watching anyway, and wouldn’t let anyone/anything “Get the drop on it,” as it were. I brush up against its consciousness, then curl tightly around it a millisecond later. It sinks back against me in turn. I can feel its muscles continue to relax through my place in its sensory processes. I can also feel the solvent run down its frame, which is a strange and foreign sensation to me. I suppose I could liken it to a concentration of stellar radiation against my hull. When it’s finally done, I have soft clothing and a fluffy towel waiting for it in my recycler. It dries itself off, pulls the hoodie on over itself, and sprawls out on its bunk, face flat against its pillow. I press down against it, in a way I consider similar to wrapping my arms around its torso and squeezing it. Worldhoppers, episode seven of the latest season, makes itself known in our shared feed.