|
Post by Perceptor on Nov 24, 2010 19:19:40 GMT -5
"It could be worse," Perceptor replies. Which really is not that comforting of a thought, really, if one thinks about it.
"I have repaired what damages remained, and corrected the faults that their inelegant work had produced," he continues, frowning to himself. The work had been skilled enough, but, clearly, whomever had done it had not believed that they were working upon anything more than an unfeeling machine. Certainly not a living, feeling being.
Or they hadn't cared. Perhaps a bit of both.
"And I have examined the new technology installed and copied down every Quintesson symbol and glyph that I could elicit from the programming. I believe that we will need to speak to Glyph and begin translating it all. While I am familiar enough with their language to recognize it for what it is, I am afraid that I do not speak nor read it, myself. Once we can translate the glyphs," he explains, waving one arm around to indicate everything scrawled upon the walls and tables and his over-full datapad, "I can write a translation patch for your use. I believe that once that patch is in place, much of the processor pain you are suffering from will cease. Until then... The best that I can offer is to deaden some of your pain receptors. I am sorry, Mirage."
|
|
|
Post by Mirage on Nov 24, 2010 21:09:05 GMT -5
Mirage pushes himself up. Too fast. The room spins and he groans as he presses the heel of his hand to his forehead.
"Whatever you deem best. If you could program a pain relief additive into my dispensed rations until then, it would be appreciated."
He looks up at Perceptor, then softly adds, "Thank you."
OOC: looks like a wrapish?
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Nov 24, 2010 21:36:45 GMT -5
Perceptor cannot help himself; he slips in close, offering Mirage his shoulder to lean against when the spy seems to get dizzy and weak. He only hopes - in retrospect - that his quick movements and closeness do not distress Mirage more than help him.
"Of course. I will have it formulated before you leave here," he promises. To the soft thanks, he merely nods, managing to quash the impulse to remind Mirage not to forget his promise. As soon as Mirage is steady enough, be backs away, trying to be non-threatening as he retreats to sort out the spy's rations.
ooc: agreed!
|
|