thisavrou | text + ad

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I.

I'm not asking for anyone's help making this decision, but I've got a big one that dropped in my lap, and I'm thinking about the whole process now. You know—dealing with the whole 'this is going to affect me for the rest of my life' thing.

It's not fun.

I think I know what I'm going to do, but pulling the trigger, so to speak...it sucks.

II.

[ Several minutes later, a for sale ad is sent out from Tex's network address: ]

For sale:

2 android-style robots. These are empty shells without any sort of intelligence included.

1 suit of Freelancer armor. Cobalt blue. Sniper rifle not included.

Prices on these items are negotiable. Please make a reasonable offer.

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They haven't to date.

They're just really fucking creepy.

[ Think sprickets on steroids. ]

I have a car. I can load them up and bring them by any time that's convenient for you. And we ought to make rules about when I'm allowed to ask to use one. Would three days' notice be enough?

I'll abide by your parameters. If you want to have to give a three day notice, then that is what I'll expect. But in my opinion, merely having to stop and think about traveling somewhere else before you make the swap, should be enough.

[ He's not 100% sanguine about cutting her off so completely, when they are still in a world with a lot of unknowns. ]

[ Adrien underestimates how stubborn she is, and how much she'll want to use her armor, or so it seems to her now. But they'll see. ]

That's what I'll do then. I'll come down to your place tomorrow.

You know where I live.

[ Which was his way of saying 'come over any time.'. ]

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