Thank you, officer. [ #2 recovers an image of the man right before he was hit. He doesn't recognize him. Even if asked he doesn't find it worth pressing charges. Too much trouble. He's just here to make music, something he's decided for himself.
That's the perk of never knowing why he was here in the first place. Creating music, seeing people joying themselves and dancing...all of that makes him feel alive. ]
Why would anyone go out of their way to enter a concert venue to attack the performers?
[ While it hasn't happened to him until now, he's certainly not the first case. Music generally should have a pleasing effect on anyone, preferences aside...
Once the blood's off, #2 makes sure the door is locked before checking on his helmet. Not quite remembering his assault is one thing. Having to end a show prematurely is another matter. He's never done that before so this variable isn't making it better.
He considers the image he has of the man again as he removes his helmet to better examine it. Furrowed brows, face red mixed with rage and possibly alcohol...he really pushed through a crowd to get to him. Anger. He answers the question himself and figures he informs K for his input. Despite his fame, #2 isn't always aware of what's happening. ]
I guess he disagreed with the message of the latest album.
[ He's not sure if the officer is familiar with the music, but it has been considered a controversial album. While minimal enough to not be considered overtly political, the implications of a robot singing about being "human after all" and having things in common with them...
Sure. Some would disagree. And apparently some are fearful enough to violently retaliate. #2 never meant for it to sound political. He'd argue that truthfully, his music comes from his "heart". ]
[ Admittedly K already knows who #2 is, because everybody knows who he is, and K is indeed familiar with the music as well. He'd been in the immediate area... because he'd been nursing a drink in a corner of the club, listening. It's intriguing, a robot making such music — and completely unsurprising, that there are humans who want to hurt him for it. ]
Maybe he didn't like your message. Maybe he doesn't like what you are. In my experience, it's always been the latter. In your case, it may be both. I think some humans are afraid of what you're capable of.
You might consider hiring your own security detail. In case. [ Because this may only be the beginning of such incidents, rather than a one-off. ]
If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to come by again later to check on everything.
[ To check #2 out, really, and make sure he's actually all right. K doesn't trust the human staff of the club to take care of him properly; humans rarely do understand — or particularly care about — the needs of synthetic beings, in his experience.
If you want a job done right, might as well do it yourself, he figures. ]
[ He remembers feeling anxious about the possible harm incoming and the reluctance to take action for reasons that may not be considered rational. #2 is capable of stringing notes, beats, and sounds together to create something that makes people want to dance. It hadn't occurred to him that the lyrics especially could be perceived as actually threatening. While he's aware of the general mistrust of humans and robots, he pays little attention to the press and doesn't participate much in social media so even among loyal fans, he's a bit of an enigma. ]
I plan to drive back once the crowd dies down. [ Honestly, it's difficult for him to trust anyone. #2 tends to not linger at venues long after a performance, strongly preferring to just hop into his vehicle and drive himself back. He slips his helmet back on with the intention of fixing it up later when he gets home.
He almost refuses K's offer, wanting nothing more than to let the buzz of what happened to subside while he disappears from the public eye until the majority of the world forgets about it. Humans tend to move on from things fairly quickly, he's noticed.
That is, until he starts to weigh in the facts. If things are starting to get dangerous for him then it would make sense to have someone who is actually capable of fending others off. He's been rejected by one society already. This new one he's managed to integrate himself in just happens to be more violent. At this moment, at least this moment, he has no desire to be killed. His initial response to K was a soft acknowledgement at least, but he confirms again in his own way: ]
I guess that's the difference between us and humans.
[ #2 won't have to wait very long. Once the assailant's taken care of, K makes a token effort to clean off some of the blood from his own face and clothes, then heads back to the venue.
Outside the door to the backroom, there's the muffled sound of voices as he patiently speaks with the bouncers stationed there. Though he's a cop, it's probably clear from the derisive tones the human bouncers take with him that they don't particularly respect him — because of what he is. An android. He's accustomed to it; even his own human co-workers treat him like a second-class citizen, to say nothing of how society at large treats most synthetic beings. But eventually there's clicking as the door locks are disengaged and K's allowed to enter, closing and relocking the door behind himself.
He isn't in uniform. He wears a black knit sweater, dark pants, a long coat with a tall collar — his appearance is fairly nondescript. He isn't meant to stand out, because he can fulfill his usual duties far more effectively if his targets don't see him coming. It certainly worked in his favour tonight. Though once he shrugs off his coat and holds it draped over an arm, his status as an officer will be made obvious with the shoulder holster he wears, his gun positioned beneath his left arm.
His expression doesn't give much away as he stands there regarding #2 for a long moment. Then he produces his badge wallet from a pocket and flips it open for #2 to see his ID and confirm his identity. ]
Good to see they've kept people out of here. [ He's soft-spoken. As he approaches #2, he puts his badge away and nods to the cracked helmet. ] Is that the worst of it? Did he damage anything else?
[ Being that he doesn't have a face that remotely resembles a human, sometimes #2 would project emojis on his helmet. The responses tend to be lighthearted which he's come to learn to prefer. Right now though, K is seeing a leather clad humanoid with a cracked screen. It's hard to tell for most people what #2 is thinking or even looking at unless he displays it with obvious body language. That's something he he has also learned to do.
Sometimes, when he knows he's alone, he would remove his helmet to look at his reflection. Since it's only K, who is very clearly law enforcement, he deduces that it should be okay to reveal himself. He still turns around to do this though, mostly out of learned habit but also the soft reminder that he isn't anything like a replicant, not even close. When he's reminded of this he can't help but feel his circuits almost slowing to what feels like sorrow.
The task of examining damages keeps him from completely shutting down though. His limbs have been rattled and even dented but not beyond simple repair. The crack on his helmet on the other hand, has been spread out a lot longer than when he initially check. It goes across the helmet diagonally now instead of partway. It doesn't take long for him to search his memories again; he was on the floor face first, when his helmet cracked, and he was pulled up by the shoulder where he was struck again. That might explain the blood along where his chin would be. That human gave him an uppercut and didn't care that it probably made his knuckles bleed.
He distinctively recalls a flow of panic when he was on the ground, exposed and vulnerable especially when the man had grabbed him.
K can see #2 reaching for the switched enclosed by a panel, but not with the intention to pull it (not like he can reach). Rather, it just occurs to him that if the human had more time to rough him up, even if he may not have been aware of what it was...
#2 puts his helmet back on in an attempt to do away an old memory, and turns to K. He doesn't bother bringing up the switch because what matters is that it was never flipped. ]
It's mostly the helmet. Everything else is minimal. I've been through worse. [ He gestures to the trash can nearby with the stained paper towels to indicate that he's cleaned off most of the blood. ]
[ For his part, K doesn't appear fazed by #2's blatantly inorganic nature. He watches the removal of the helmet with the same outwardly impassive detachment with which he observes most beings, regardless of their species. K may resemble a human, but his unemotive manner tends to quickly expose his own artificial nature.
Though when #2 seems to be reaching for something, he tilts his head curiously. It occurs to him to offer his help, but all too soon #2 is putting the helmet back on and turning to him. ]
It shouldn't have happened at all. [ He says firmly. Something tells him that if #2 were human, the venue's security wouldn't have been nearly so lax — but he knows he shouldn't even be entertaining such thoughts. They're the sort of thing that leads to his kind being decommissioned. ]
Well, I don't plan on keeping you any longer than necessary. Mainly I came back to see if you require any assistance. [ And to collect the security footage if the other officers haven't yet, but that's all a formality by this point. Wanting to personally check on #2 certainly isn't, but he can't really explain why he felt compelled to. A pause, then: ] Do you? [ As his eyes flicker toward where #2 had been reaching before. ]
[ #2 shrugs at that. He spends the majority of his existence pondering the "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts". He still does, if only just to be able to convey it through his music because that is easier to process than the actual words. ]
I usually wait until it gets quiet... [ The crowd can sometimes get touchy with him. If there is anything for him to learn today though, is that it takes just one person to undo his existence. He looks down at the floor for a moment before his head rises to look at K again. Clearly, this one is as accustomed to accepting help as he is with talking (which really isn't saying much). ]
Actually, I've never hired security before. [ Though his voice isn't as natural as K's, his admission comes off as a question also, as he has no idea on how to go about it. The bouncers keep people away (mostly) but they don't follow. (And after today, he's less inclined to ask any of them.)
All of a sudden, the robot sounds almost flippant, not directed towards K necessarily, but rather just the situation overall. There's a deadpan delivery in his speech that some may find either endearing or off putting.
#2 is awkward. He's awkward with jokes and especially when he tries. ]
[ The awkwardness just has a corner of K's mouth twitching upward in a not-quite-smile. Apparently it's endearing and not off-putting, to him. ]
Even if I were allowed to charge for that kind of service, this one'd be on the house. Come on, I'll keep them off of you.
[ And he nods for #2 to come with him as he heads for the door. He's still technically under orders to assist the victim, after all, so he'll be capable of using force if necessary to keep any humans away. ]
I've never hired private security, either. [ He continues, unlocking and opening the door to let them through. The human bouncers on the other side give the pair rather sour looks but surprisingly hold their tongues, allowing K and #2 to pass by without incident. For his part, K simply ignores them entirely. He knows better than to give into provocation. ]
But I've heard — seen — a lot are former law enforcement. Guess I still have a future career if this one doesn't work out. [ His tone has barely any inflection to indicate it's a joke. His sense of humour, such as it is, tends to be very dry. Androids like him don't get a choice in their employment — he was literally ordered and bought by the LAPD to be a blade runner. The only way he's changing jobs is through reassignment or death, he figures, the former of which admittedly isn't unheard of. If his handler ever wanted him to act as personal security for a high-risk target, that's exactly what he'd have to do. He's thinking on that as he glances at #2. ]
I imagine you must travel a lot while touring. Do you like it? Getting to see the world?
[ #2 will take an almost-smile over an awkward stare any day. He follows K out, looking ahead while actually taking note of the bouncers' reactions. He hadn't paid them much mind before since it is their jobs to look intimidating. Now that #2's taken note, it's difficult to tell which of the two they are more repulsed at. Knowing that he had seen some of the bouncers tapping their feet away to the beat of his music before makes it even more confusing. Why dislike the musician if you like his music? Meanwhile, K looks more like them than #2 can ever dream to be but he will continue to dream - it makes no sense to find K disgusting.
For as much as he harbors the desire to be human, they definitely confuse him a lot of the times.
He continues to follow K to the parking lot, no longer thinking about the bouncers. It's probably not wise to joke with anyone associated with the LAPD, but if he can turn that almost-smile into something more, then he can feel like he can "smile" too. ] It does work out. There will always be people to arrest.
[ If his screen wasn't cracked, he would have it display "lol" in bright red. ]
Performing can be exhausting so I spend most of my off time recharging. [ Wow, to actually be asked if he liked something? It shows that he's not prepared to answer, vocoder stuttering a bit. ] But...but it's nice, what I can see. I like looking at the sunset, even if it's the same sun.
[ What does that even mean??? Hello, I am #2 and I like turtles. ]
[ The quip about there always being people to arrest does get something closer to a smile from K, an amused look that actually reaches his eyes now, though there's still a cautious undercurrent to it. The uncertainty of someone who's not accustomed to being treated like this — with jokes and lighthearted banter instead of demeaning slurs.
And it's... nice, he thinks. Something he could get used to. Not that he'll have the chance to, but maybe he can dream, too. That seems to be a theme in some of #2's music that he's been able to relate to: hopeful longing.
He nods to himself with a thoughtful expression at #2's comment about it being the same sun, interpreting it in his own way. ]
Me too. Especially outside the city, far enough away from the people and pollution to really see it clearly.
[ He's on the verge of saying something more but cuts himself off, suddenly alert. His attention is on the unusual crowd that's milling about the reserved parking area — only authorised personnel and performers should have access to this walled-off section. Could be that the people simply took a wrong turn during the chaotic evacuation of the venue and aren't intentionally waiting down here to ambush anyone, but K isn't about to let his guard down. He deliberately shifts closer to #2, gives him a wary look, and falls into step with him while they continue toward his car.
And that's when someone notices them, recognises #2, and drunkenly shouts a slurred greeting. A ripple of excitement passes through the crowd as more people take notice, there's more shouts, happy shrieks, and some uncoordinated flailing, flashes from phones — as they all begin rushing over intending to swarm #2. ]
[ One of the main draws of the show #2 puts on is the light show that goes with the music. It isn't apparent to the audience, but the robot does have a seemingly endless number of cables attached to him during performances. The cables allow him to control virtually everything on stage. It doesn't have to be this way, but in his mind, it does...especially when he wants to guarantee the crowd to have a good time.
#2 nods to indicate that he understands that look (since he can't give any looks) and speeds his pace. It doesn't stop someone from recognizing him and he does offer that one drunk fan a wave but that obviously isn't enough. Fans of his music are some of the most sincere folks he's ever met; enough that he sometimes forgets that there are those that hate his kind...but they can be equal parts crazy too.
If these people adore him so, where they when he was being assaulted live on stage??]
N...no, thank y - [ One of the fans attempts to step in between him and K as #2 fumbles for his car key, but he drops it as he becomes surrounded. If his screen wasn't cracked, he'd be flashing a few expletives right about now. ]
[ The crowd closes in on #2 and though K tries his best to keep them back, to position himself in between them and their idol — none of them appear armed, but that hardly matters and his instinct is to treat them all as potential threats — there's simply too many of them. K considers and just as quickly dismisses the thought of drawing his own gun, knowing that might escalate things beyond his control. This is still manageable, he thinks. If he acts quickly.
He retrieves the dropped key, securely winds an arm around #2's shoulders, and begins bodily making a path for them through the crowd. More than a few of the humans are unceremoniously shoved backwards or to the ground amid their loud protests, and K doesn't stop. Once they reach #2's car, he unlocks the driver's side and helps #2 get inside before climbing in after him, taking the driver's seat.
Or more like folding himself into the driver's seat. Good lord, he hadn't realised their height difference was quite that significant.
Ignoring the fans now pounding on the windows, he searches around the seat with both hands. ] Where's the—
[ There it is. He adjusts the seat to allow himself some actual leg room to drive, then glances at #2 as he whips on his seatbelt and starts the car. ] Buckle up. [ Contrary to his anxious expression, his tone's just this side of amused; safety first. He isn't panicked — he's self-assured, confident that he has things under control. Aside from the cracked helmet, #2's still in one piece, so all things considered this was a successful escort mission. Now to take him home... ]
[ #2 often rolls with the punches, goes with the flow, follows rather than lead most of the time...but sometimes he feels tested and he gets a little grumpy. The flashes from the cameras combined with the endless wave of voices of people shouting were overloading his sensors in a way that is the very opposite of pleasurable. Before he realizes it, K's already ushered him into his car. Good, good.
Being in the vehicle doesn't stop the fans from trying to get his attention but the familiar comfort of the seats after years of many road trips makes it a lot more bearable.
He doesn't have eyes to roll at K nearly being sandwiched by the driver seat and he's not embarrassed enough to want to look at his side of the window...so #2 just helplessly shrugs as the other adjusts his seat. K just happens to be nearly the same height as his former companion. #2 buckles his seat belt, covering the right side of his helmet not to obscure the crowd's vision, but his. ]
This way.
[ A cable extends from his helmet and attaches to the headrest behind him, where the screen by the console appears with a map and directions to his apartment, about an hour from here. When K starts the car, one of #2's favorite songs start to play, something that is a far cry from his stage shows. The radio's off, indicating that it's actually playing from #2 himself. He needs to hear something good after that madness.
The gold robot leans back against his chair (plenty of leg room on his side, ahem), letting out what sounds like a long buzz that eventually turns into humming. Fans give him validation but they also make him crabby at the same time. Sometimes, that crabbiness has him feel a bit daring. Or in this case, comfortable enough to not give too much care into what he says. ]
Would I be in trouble if I say that people are fucking crazy?
[ #2 only nods at the compliment as he claps at the song's conclusion. The lights appear to die down when K stops playing, implying that it reacts to sound. He's more than happy to explain the specifics but he'd much rather talk about K...'s playing. #2 remains slouched as he supports himself with one elbow on the armrest. ]
As Carl Wilson sings in the song, your performance was "outta sight" - I enjoyed that very much. [ He lets those words sink in for the both of them before diving into the technicalities. ] The tempo was more lax than it actually is, but it actually suits the ukulele...and the soul of the song itself.
[ The last part is said with some hesitation - he doesn't want to come off as pretentious but he does believe in what he says. ]
There's always a sense of liveliness with music, especially theirs. [ The next part is said without hesitation but #2 is no less nervous about it, feeling rather vulnerable despite his permanent poker face. ] Your cover is no exception. It made me feel as though I was living the song.
[ Finding and falling in love with the one, being in love, feeling complete...these feelings were also in his dream when K played it the first time. ]
I felt alive. [ A term that occurs often in #2's own music when he performs. He says it here with more weight with the modular synthesizers quietly humming behind them in the other room. He leans forward again to put his hand out towards K's side of the table. ]
[ #2 offering actual critique (and critique that's correct; K knows his timing could use work) is surprising, and the way he puts a positive spin on it has K smiling. He would've hardly been offended by #2's honest opinion even without the compliments to "soften" it, but it's sweet the way his friend is always so careful with his feelings regardless.
That admission, though — confession? — about feeling as though he was living the song... feeling alive...
K regards him with an intent, curious look, absently strumming the ukulele as he thinks on that for a moment. ]
I'm glad you liked it so much. [ Especially considering he'd learned the song for #2. ] I'll have to learn more songs. Give you some variety. I've also been learning how to play the piano... [ The implication being that he'd like this to happen again, playing for #2 — and maybe even playing together, one day. Not in front of an audience, but just for each other. Leaning forward himself, he seems to hesitate for a moment, then reaches for #2's hand. ]
You felt alive. [ He repeats, his smile growing as he gently takes #2's hand in his, giving #2 the opportunity to pull back if he isn't comfortable. But if he doesn't, K will lace their fingers together. ] I think I like making you feel that way.
[ He gestures towards the standard size synthesizer behind him, though not necessarily as a request for K to demonstrate right now. He wants to take this moment in and process it first. That smile is a sight he can definitely get used to. #2 would smile back if he could. The closest he can is flash an emoji on his screen but instead of doing that, he expresses this mutual feeling by giving K's hand a squeeze. It's been a very long time since he's had physical contact with anyone in this way. And there had only been one other.
His head bobs side to side, a habit he gets into sometimes to consider his next set of words. ]
[ K acknowledges the synthesiser with a brief, though appreciative glance, before his eyes return to #2 and remain on him. If a demonstration is wanted it will just have to wait a little while, because at the moment #2 holds the entirety of his attention, just as surely as he holds his hand. The squeeze to which has K's expression softening into something more vulnerable, a tentative look of happiness, and fondness, all directed at his friend. Who has always been the source of these growing feelings.
He only has to think on the question a moment before answering. ] Like I matter. Like my life has meaning. [ His voice is soft, but the undercurrent of genuine emotion behind his words is easily discernible. ] You make me feel alive, too. [ A sentiment that's equally profound for both of them. ]
[ Though mostly still, a surge flows through his circuits in a way that #2 can only describe as a mix of joy, denial, and joy again. All of that creates some mixture that overall feels like a sense of validation. ]
You do. [ He repeats "and it does" right after K says it.
To the last statement it may take a lot longer than he'd like to find the words to respond. His hand acts first by reaching over the small table, pausing only a second for K to be aware of what he's about to do as he cups his cheek. He can feel the prickles, even through his glove. Finally, words come through.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Obeir
Thank you, officer. [ #2 recovers an image of the man right before he was hit. He doesn't recognize him. Even if asked he doesn't find it worth pressing charges. Too much trouble. He's just here to make music, something he's decided for himself.
That's the perk of never knowing why he was here in the first place. Creating music, seeing people joying themselves and dancing...all of that makes him feel alive. ]
Why would anyone go out of their way to enter a concert venue to attack the performers?
[ While it hasn't happened to him until now, he's certainly not the first case. Music generally should have a pleasing effect on anyone, preferences aside...
Once the blood's off, #2 makes sure the door is locked before checking on his helmet. Not quite remembering his assault is one thing. Having to end a show prematurely is another matter. He's never done that before so this variable isn't making it better.
He considers the image he has of the man again as he removes his helmet to better examine it. Furrowed brows, face red mixed with rage and possibly alcohol...he really pushed through a crowd to get to him. Anger. He answers the question himself and figures he informs K for his input. Despite his fame, #2 isn't always aware of what's happening. ]
I guess he disagreed with the message of the latest album.
[ He's not sure if the officer is familiar with the music, but it has been considered a controversial album. While minimal enough to not be considered overtly political, the implications of a robot singing about being "human after all" and having things in common with them...
Sure. Some would disagree. And apparently some are fearful enough to violently retaliate. #2 never meant for it to sound political. He'd argue that truthfully, his music comes from his "heart". ]
no subject
Maybe he didn't like your message. Maybe he doesn't like what you are. In my experience, it's always been the latter. In your case, it may be both. I think some humans are afraid of what you're capable of.
You might consider hiring your own security detail. In case. [ Because this may only be the beginning of such incidents, rather than a one-off. ]
If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to come by again later to check on everything.
[ To check #2 out, really, and make sure he's actually all right. K doesn't trust the human staff of the club to take care of him properly; humans rarely do understand — or particularly care about — the needs of synthetic beings, in his experience.
If you want a job done right, might as well do it yourself, he figures. ]
no subject
But never enough to hurt anyone.
[ He remembers feeling anxious about the possible harm incoming and the reluctance to take action for reasons that may not be considered rational. #2 is capable of stringing notes, beats, and sounds together to create something that makes people want to dance. It hadn't occurred to him that the lyrics especially could be perceived as actually threatening. While he's aware of the general mistrust of humans and robots, he pays little attention to the press and doesn't participate much in social media so even among loyal fans, he's a bit of an enigma. ]
I plan to drive back once the crowd dies down. [ Honestly, it's difficult for him to trust anyone. #2 tends to not linger at venues long after a performance, strongly preferring to just hop into his vehicle and drive himself back. He slips his helmet back on with the intention of fixing it up later when he gets home.
He almost refuses K's offer, wanting nothing more than to let the buzz of what happened to subside while he disappears from the public eye until the majority of the world forgets about it. Humans tend to move on from things fairly quickly, he's noticed.
That is, until he starts to weigh in the facts. If things are starting to get dangerous for him then it would make sense to have someone who is actually capable of fending others off. He's been rejected by one society already. This new one he's managed to integrate himself in just happens to be more violent. At this moment, at least this moment, he has no desire to be killed. His initial response to K was a soft acknowledgement at least, but he confirms again in his own way: ]
I will be waiting here.
no subject
[ #2 won't have to wait very long. Once the assailant's taken care of, K makes a token effort to clean off some of the blood from his own face and clothes, then heads back to the venue.
Outside the door to the backroom, there's the muffled sound of voices as he patiently speaks with the bouncers stationed there. Though he's a cop, it's probably clear from the derisive tones the human bouncers take with him that they don't particularly respect him — because of what he is. An android. He's accustomed to it; even his own human co-workers treat him like a second-class citizen, to say nothing of how society at large treats most synthetic beings. But eventually there's clicking as the door locks are disengaged and K's allowed to enter, closing and relocking the door behind himself.
He isn't in uniform. He wears a black knit sweater, dark pants, a long coat with a tall collar — his appearance is fairly nondescript. He isn't meant to stand out, because he can fulfill his usual duties far more effectively if his targets don't see him coming. It certainly worked in his favour tonight. Though once he shrugs off his coat and holds it draped over an arm, his status as an officer will be made obvious with the shoulder holster he wears, his gun positioned beneath his left arm.
His expression doesn't give much away as he stands there regarding #2 for a long moment. Then he produces his badge wallet from a pocket and flips it open for #2 to see his ID and confirm his identity. ]
Good to see they've kept people out of here. [ He's soft-spoken. As he approaches #2, he puts his badge away and nods to the cracked helmet. ] Is that the worst of it? Did he damage anything else?
no subject
Sometimes, when he knows he's alone, he would remove his helmet to look at his reflection. Since it's only K, who is very clearly law enforcement, he deduces that it should be okay to reveal himself. He still turns around to do this though, mostly out of learned habit but also the soft reminder that he isn't anything like a replicant, not even close. When he's reminded of this he can't help but feel his circuits almost slowing to what feels like sorrow.
The task of examining damages keeps him from completely shutting down though. His limbs have been rattled and even dented but not beyond simple repair. The crack on his helmet on the other hand, has been spread out a lot longer than when he initially check. It goes across the helmet diagonally now instead of partway. It doesn't take long for him to search his memories again; he was on the floor face first, when his helmet cracked, and he was pulled up by the shoulder where he was struck again. That might explain the blood along where his chin would be. That human gave him an uppercut and didn't care that it probably made his knuckles bleed.
He distinctively recalls a flow of panic when he was on the ground, exposed and vulnerable especially when the man had grabbed him.
K can see #2 reaching for the switched enclosed by a panel, but not with the intention to pull it (not like he can reach). Rather, it just occurs to him that if the human had more time to rough him up, even if he may not have been aware of what it was...
#2 puts his helmet back on in an attempt to do away an old memory, and turns to K. He doesn't bother bringing up the switch because what matters is that it was never flipped. ]
It's mostly the helmet. Everything else is minimal. I've been through worse. [ He gestures to the trash can nearby with the stained paper towels to indicate that he's cleaned off most of the blood. ]
no subject
Though when #2 seems to be reaching for something, he tilts his head curiously. It occurs to him to offer his help, but all too soon #2 is putting the helmet back on and turning to him. ]
It shouldn't have happened at all. [ He says firmly. Something tells him that if #2 were human, the venue's security wouldn't have been nearly so lax — but he knows he shouldn't even be entertaining such thoughts. They're the sort of thing that leads to his kind being decommissioned. ]
Well, I don't plan on keeping you any longer than necessary. Mainly I came back to see if you require any assistance. [ And to collect the security footage if the other officers haven't yet, but that's all a formality by this point. Wanting to personally check on #2 certainly isn't, but he can't really explain why he felt compelled to. A pause, then: ] Do you? [ As his eyes flicker toward where #2 had been reaching before. ]
no subject
I usually wait until it gets quiet... [ The crowd can sometimes get touchy with him. If there is anything for him to learn today though, is that it takes just one person to undo his existence. He looks down at the floor for a moment before his head rises to look at K again. Clearly, this one is as accustomed to accepting help as he is with talking (which really isn't saying much). ]
Actually, I've never hired security before. [ Though his voice isn't as natural as K's, his admission comes off as a question also, as he has no idea on how to go about it. The bouncers keep people away (mostly) but they don't follow. (And after today, he's less inclined to ask any of them.)
All of a sudden, the robot sounds almost flippant, not directed towards K necessarily, but rather just the situation overall. There's a deadpan delivery in his speech that some may find either endearing or off putting.
#2 is awkward. He's awkward with jokes and especially when he tries. ]
What do you charge for escorting me to my car?
no subject
Even if I were allowed to charge for that kind of service, this one'd be on the house. Come on, I'll keep them off of you.
[ And he nods for #2 to come with him as he heads for the door. He's still technically under orders to assist the victim, after all, so he'll be capable of using force if necessary to keep any humans away. ]
I've never hired private security, either. [ He continues, unlocking and opening the door to let them through. The human bouncers on the other side give the pair rather sour looks but surprisingly hold their tongues, allowing K and #2 to pass by without incident. For his part, K simply ignores them entirely. He knows better than to give into provocation. ]
But I've heard — seen — a lot are former law enforcement. Guess I still have a future career if this one doesn't work out. [ His tone has barely any inflection to indicate it's a joke. His sense of humour, such as it is, tends to be very dry. Androids like him don't get a choice in their employment — he was literally ordered and bought by the LAPD to be a blade runner. The only way he's changing jobs is through reassignment or death, he figures, the former of which admittedly isn't unheard of. If his handler ever wanted him to act as personal security for a high-risk target, that's exactly what he'd have to do. He's thinking on that as he glances at #2. ]
I imagine you must travel a lot while touring. Do you like it? Getting to see the world?
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but he will continue to dream- it makes no sense to find K disgusting.For as much as he harbors the desire to be human, they definitely confuse him a lot of the times.
He continues to follow K to the parking lot, no longer thinking about the bouncers. It's probably not wise to joke with anyone associated with the LAPD, but if he can turn that almost-smile into something more, then he can feel like he can "smile" too. ] It does work out. There will always be people to arrest.
[ If his screen wasn't cracked, he would have it display "lol" in bright red. ]
Performing can be exhausting so I spend most of my off time recharging. [ Wow, to actually be asked if he liked something? It shows that he's not prepared to answer, vocoder stuttering a bit. ] But...but it's nice, what I can see. I like looking at the sunset, even if it's the same sun.
[ What does that even mean???
Hello, I am #2 and I like turtles.]sorry for the wait and Merry Christmas!
And it's... nice, he thinks. Something he could get used to. Not that he'll have the chance to, but maybe he can dream, too. That seems to be a theme in some of #2's music that he's been able to relate to: hopeful longing.
He nods to himself with a thoughtful expression at #2's comment about it being the same sun, interpreting it in his own way. ]
Me too. Especially outside the city, far enough away from the people and pollution to really see it clearly.
[ He's on the verge of saying something more but cuts himself off, suddenly alert. His attention is on the unusual crowd that's milling about the reserved parking area — only authorised personnel and performers should have access to this walled-off section. Could be that the people simply took a wrong turn during the chaotic evacuation of the venue and aren't intentionally waiting down here to ambush anyone, but K isn't about to let his guard down. He deliberately shifts closer to #2, gives him a wary look, and falls into step with him while they continue toward his car.
And that's when someone notices them, recognises #2, and drunkenly shouts a slurred greeting. A ripple of excitement passes through the crowd as more people take notice, there's more shouts, happy shrieks, and some uncoordinated flailing, flashes from phones — as they all begin rushing over intending to swarm #2. ]
np and I hope yours was a great one!
#2 nods to indicate that he understands that look (since he can't give any looks) and speeds his pace. It doesn't stop someone from recognizing him and he does offer that one drunk fan a wave but that obviously isn't enough. Fans of his music are some of the most sincere folks he's ever met; enough that he sometimes forgets that there are those that hate his kind...but they can be equal parts crazy too.
If these people adore him so, where they when he was being assaulted live on stage??]
N...no, thank y - [ One of the fans attempts to step in between him and K as #2 fumbles for his car key, but he drops it as he becomes surrounded. If his screen wasn't cracked, he'd be flashing a few expletives right about now. ]
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He retrieves the dropped key, securely winds an arm around #2's shoulders, and begins bodily making a path for them through the crowd. More than a few of the humans are unceremoniously shoved backwards or to the ground amid their loud protests, and K doesn't stop. Once they reach #2's car, he unlocks the driver's side and helps #2 get inside before climbing in after him, taking the driver's seat.
Or more like folding himself into the driver's seat. Good lord, he hadn't realised their height difference was quite that significant.
Ignoring the fans now pounding on the windows, he searches around the seat with both hands. ] Where's the—
[ There it is. He adjusts the seat to allow himself some actual leg room to drive, then glances at #2 as he whips on his seatbelt and starts the car. ] Buckle up. [ Contrary to his anxious expression, his tone's just this side of amused; safety first. He isn't panicked — he's self-assured, confident that he has things under control. Aside from the cracked helmet, #2's still in one piece, so all things considered this was a successful escort mission. Now to take him home... ]
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Being in the vehicle doesn't stop the fans from trying to get his attention but the familiar comfort of the seats after years of many road trips makes it a lot more bearable.
He doesn't have eyes to roll at K nearly being sandwiched by the driver seat and he's not embarrassed enough to want to look at his side of the window...so #2 just helplessly shrugs as the other adjusts his seat. K just happens to be nearly the same height as his former companion. #2 buckles his seat belt, covering the right side of his helmet not to obscure the crowd's vision, but his. ]
This way.
[ A cable extends from his helmet and attaches to the headrest behind him, where the screen by the console appears with a map and directions to his apartment, about an hour from here. When K starts the car, one of #2's favorite songs start to play, something that is a far cry from his stage shows. The radio's off, indicating that it's actually playing from #2 himself. He needs to hear something good after that madness.
The gold robot leans back against his chair (plenty of leg room on his side, ahem), letting out what sounds like a long buzz that eventually turns into humming. Fans give him validation but they also make him crabby at the same time. Sometimes, that crabbiness has him feel a bit daring. Or in this case, comfortable enough to not give too much care into what he says. ]
Would I be in trouble if I say that people are fucking crazy?
TFLN - Obeir
[ #2 only nods at the compliment as he claps at the song's conclusion. The lights appear to die down when K stops playing, implying that it reacts to sound. He's more than happy to explain the specifics but he'd much rather talk about K...'s playing. #2 remains slouched as he supports himself with one elbow on the armrest. ]
As Carl Wilson sings in the song, your performance was "outta sight" - I enjoyed that very much. [ He lets those words sink in for the both of them before diving into the technicalities. ] The tempo was more lax than it actually is, but it actually suits the ukulele...and the soul of the song itself.
[ The last part is said with some hesitation - he doesn't want to come off as pretentious but he does believe in what he says. ]
There's always a sense of liveliness with music, especially theirs. [ The next part is said without hesitation but #2 is no less nervous about it, feeling rather vulnerable despite his permanent poker face. ] Your cover is no exception. It made me feel as though I was living the song.
[ Finding and falling in love with the one, being in love, feeling complete...these feelings were also in his dream when K played it the first time. ]
I felt alive. [ A term that occurs often in #2's own music when he performs. He says it here with more weight with the modular synthesizers quietly humming behind them in the other room. He leans forward again to put his hand out towards K's side of the table. ]
Thank you.
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That admission, though — confession? — about feeling as though he was living the song... feeling alive...
K regards him with an intent, curious look, absently strumming the ukulele as he thinks on that for a moment. ]
I'm glad you liked it so much. [ Especially considering he'd learned the song for #2. ] I'll have to learn more songs. Give you some variety. I've also been learning how to play the piano... [ The implication being that he'd like this to happen again, playing for #2 — and maybe even playing together, one day. Not in front of an audience, but just for each other. Leaning forward himself, he seems to hesitate for a moment, then reaches for #2's hand. ]
You felt alive. [ He repeats, his smile growing as he gently takes #2's hand in his, giving #2 the opportunity to pull back if he isn't comfortable. But if he doesn't, K will lace their fingers together. ] I think I like making you feel that way.
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[ He gestures towards the standard size synthesizer behind him, though not necessarily as a request for K to demonstrate right now. He wants to take this moment in and process it first. That smile is a sight he can definitely get used to. #2 would smile back if he could. The closest he can is flash an emoji on his screen but instead of doing that, he expresses this mutual feeling by giving K's hand a squeeze. It's been a very long time since he's had physical contact with anyone in this way. And there had only been one other.
His head bobs side to side, a habit he gets into sometimes to consider his next set of words. ]
And how do I make you feel?
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He only has to think on the question a moment before answering. ] Like I matter. Like my life has meaning. [ His voice is soft, but the undercurrent of genuine emotion behind his words is easily discernible. ] You make me feel alive, too. [ A sentiment that's equally profound for both of them. ]
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You do. [ He repeats "and it does" right after K says it.
To the last statement it may take a lot longer than he'd like to find the words to respond. His hand acts first by reaching over the small table, pausing only a second for K to be aware of what he's about to do as he cups his cheek. He can feel the prickles, even through his glove. Finally, words come through.]
You matter to me.