Re: Borderlands: Kara & Rhys
Her finger pointed at his eye like the barrel of a gun and Rhys' smile was more cringe than anything, cringe with some apology mixed in. He hadn't meant to be rude—if that's... what it was. Was it rude? Whatever it was, he hadn't meant it. (And it wasn't as if he learned anything. Not true. Solid seven!) But, the girl appeared to move beyond the faux pas with a swiftness Sasha and Fiona had both lacked. They both were typical Pandorans in their bitterness, rank and lingering and always pointed at him, but Kara appeared more curious than angry. She told him not to do it again and he... uh, he probably wouldn't. Not because he was some android who "did as people said" (God, if only, right?)—no, he was one of those lousy humans with their lousy free will. But, he wouldn't do it because he was kinda polite and mostly scared of what would happen if he didn't listen.
She smiled and it was Hyperion. Or it was con artist. It was the colder stretch of lips, a prop, like an approximation of an expression, offered the way babies were given those little rings when they teethed. It was meant to soothe. And Rhys frowned back, like a frickin' toothless baby, though he managed a laugh. It wasn't nice, but he didn't like the smile.
"I'm not--I'm not ill." He said it uncertainly, pressing the back of his (real) hand to his forehead, though the smart thing to do (which is why he didn't do it. Rhys hates smart things. It's why he hates me.) would've been to use the scanner on his other hand to assess his temperature. But, he didn't think about it, and by the time he was following the hopping alien girl into the caravan, ducking low to fit through the door, he was shaking his head. Jack stood nearby, leaning against the inner wall of the tin can, looking Kara up and down, and giving an "eh" hand gesture, wobble of holographic palm in the air.—She headed for the console and Rhys hurried to track in front of her, longer legs carrying him there fast, up the stairs. (Watch your head, dum-) He hit his head on the ceiling—thud! scrape!—, but the stars didn't stop him from cutting Kara off. And at least Jack disappeared in a haze of scattering pixels.
He swore. He put metal palm to the crown of his head gingerly and huffed through his nose once.
"Uh, I'll drive." He seated himself behind the wheel and started up the engine with keys produced from his pocket. The vehicle lurched out of the garage, skag skin boot pressing down on the pedal. "Do you even have a license?" It was a joke. Because this was Pandora. And no one cared on Pandora. He smiled, just in case she didn't get that part. "Because you--you look young." Pause. "Anyway, let's get outta here, shall we?" He flattened the gas pedal and had them puttering down the wooden streets of Hollow Point in a blink, scooting (haha scooting. Like Scooter) by yellow lamplight and a sheen of headlights on the ground in front of them. The cave was big. It would take them a few minutes.
They should talk. Rhys was good at that at least.
"Sooo, are you going to tell me what I can expect or is it a surprise?"