Sept 2, 2018 4:42:09 GMT
Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2018 4:42:09 GMT
The redhead slumped back onto her swivel chair, letting it twirl her around for a quick second (or maybe it was three) before setting one foot on the ground to stop the momentum. Her fingers restlessly tapped on the armrest as she stared at the device in front of her, its screen dark and reflecting her frustrated face. What exactly was wrong? She'd wondered long and hard, quite stumped by the fact that this was the third computer she'd built out of boredom--the previous two had worked perfectly well, so why wasn't this one working?
Flick Valentine hated being confused.
Sluuuuuurp--
Correction: She hated being confused and not being able to concentrate because of a certain greenhead. Or, more specifically, the greenhead's soda.
Exasperatedly letting her head hang on the chair's backrest, Flick kicked at the floor to turn the swivel chair around and face one of her two working computers, where the video calling app displayed the figure of a pale girl sipping some soda. Fixer, as she'd introduced herself some days ago when she hacked into Prometheus and made Flick's father look like an angry Irish leprechaun--and Flick an amused one, by extension, because it wasn't every day that her father looked like that. And when he did, it was usually because he was stumped--it just so happened that during that time, the reason had been Fixer. The fact that Romulus didn't manage to track her down only made him as orange as his hair was, bordering on red, but the fact remained that if he couldn't catch Fixer, then certainly Flick couldn't as well. And yet she did, and she figured it was mostly because Fixer did want to get caught, but just not by the wrong person.
And so there they were, two days later, and as much as Flick wanted to block out the soda sounds by turning off the call another side of her didn't want to. Maybe it was boredom, or maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the fact that she'd been locked up her workshop building as much crap as she can for the past month. Nevertheless, something was keeping her from disconnecting. "I think that's enough brain-mushing for today, I'll probably just disassemble the computer and turn it into something else. Maybe some algebraic calculator or a delivery dog, thoughts?" she remarked to no one in particular, but 'no-one' included Fixer. "Or maybe something to mute your straw whenever you sip," she added as a forethought, grabbing a nearby tool and beginning to idly tinker with some spares.
"So, is there any particular reason you hacked into Prometheus?" the redhead asked, tilting her head curiously. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she still loved her father and since the company was one of the most important things in his life, she was willing to help as much as she could. Not that she'd spill about Fixer to him, of course--that had a different reason on its own. "I mean, technically there weren't any losses but still--"
A small chuckle escaped the redhead's lips when a thought crossed her mind--maybe there weren't any losses because nothing in Prometheus interested Fixer. That would be disappointing on the green-haired girl's part, surely. But to Flick, that was nothing short of amusing. "--erm, back to topic, so yeah," at that point she was just stalling as she tried to reorganize the momentary collapse of her thoughts. "Why Prometheus?"
----
@annabelle
Flick Valentine hated being confused.
Sluuuuuurp--
Correction: She hated being confused and not being able to concentrate because of a certain greenhead. Or, more specifically, the greenhead's soda.
Exasperatedly letting her head hang on the chair's backrest, Flick kicked at the floor to turn the swivel chair around and face one of her two working computers, where the video calling app displayed the figure of a pale girl sipping some soda. Fixer, as she'd introduced herself some days ago when she hacked into Prometheus and made Flick's father look like an angry Irish leprechaun--and Flick an amused one, by extension, because it wasn't every day that her father looked like that. And when he did, it was usually because he was stumped--it just so happened that during that time, the reason had been Fixer. The fact that Romulus didn't manage to track her down only made him as orange as his hair was, bordering on red, but the fact remained that if he couldn't catch Fixer, then certainly Flick couldn't as well. And yet she did, and she figured it was mostly because Fixer did want to get caught, but just not by the wrong person.
And so there they were, two days later, and as much as Flick wanted to block out the soda sounds by turning off the call another side of her didn't want to. Maybe it was boredom, or maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the fact that she'd been locked up her workshop building as much crap as she can for the past month. Nevertheless, something was keeping her from disconnecting. "I think that's enough brain-mushing for today, I'll probably just disassemble the computer and turn it into something else. Maybe some algebraic calculator or a delivery dog, thoughts?" she remarked to no one in particular, but 'no-one' included Fixer. "Or maybe something to mute your straw whenever you sip," she added as a forethought, grabbing a nearby tool and beginning to idly tinker with some spares.
"So, is there any particular reason you hacked into Prometheus?" the redhead asked, tilting her head curiously. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she still loved her father and since the company was one of the most important things in his life, she was willing to help as much as she could. Not that she'd spill about Fixer to him, of course--that had a different reason on its own. "I mean, technically there weren't any losses but still--"
A small chuckle escaped the redhead's lips when a thought crossed her mind--maybe there weren't any losses because nothing in Prometheus interested Fixer. That would be disappointing on the green-haired girl's part, surely. But to Flick, that was nothing short of amusing. "--erm, back to topic, so yeah," at that point she was just stalling as she tried to reorganize the momentary collapse of her thoughts. "Why Prometheus?"
----
@annabelle
