[Two very different people from very different worlds, fumbling around their differences. Tony opens and closes his mouth a few times, possibly swallowing back stupid comments that she wouldn't have taken kindly to. He ends up saying,] Cool, [in that awkward, abrupt way that he does when he's-- trying to be cool about something, against the worse devils of his nature.
Then he reaches-- slow, so as not to startle, offend, or presume, and moves to turn over the transparent box.] It's not exactly for opening, [he says.] Not until times get desperate. Your daemon will have to configure it when you tell it what you want it to do.
[Through the clear chassis, she can see a mess of ugly Earth technology. Circuitry, wires, a few dark LEDs. Over it, there's a framework of metal bolted together, lustrous, and oddly bright against the backdrop. The shape of it is stirringly familiar. At the base of the box, where the transparent window meets the opacity of the seal, Tony's handwriting shows in bold, legible red.
no subject
Then he reaches-- slow, so as not to startle, offend, or presume, and moves to turn over the transparent box.] It's not exactly for opening, [he says.] Not until times get desperate. Your daemon will have to configure it when you tell it what you want it to do.
[Through the clear chassis, she can see a mess of ugly Earth technology. Circuitry, wires, a few dark LEDs. Over it, there's a framework of metal bolted together, lustrous, and oddly bright against the backdrop. The shape of it is stirringly familiar. At the base of the box, where the transparent window meets the opacity of the seal, Tony's handwriting shows in bold, legible red.