05-06-2010, 12:59 AM
[html]
Snake had been much the same way until recently—at least when it came to being mostly anti-social in the clan. Before the war he had spent most of his time either on the borders, training, or at home in the landfill. No one ever came there, so his solitude had been thankfully well-preserved. It wasn't as much that he hated company—he didn't mind it, but he usually felt strange around others and usually because others felt strange around him. Most weren't used to the blank interface, devoid of emotion except in brief flashes and glimmers. Some managed to get around it, but precedent made Snake nervous sometimes. He usually thought it better for everyone to remain solitary.
But despite all of that, the coyote was puzzled for a moment as he noticed a flash of confusion steal across Hybrid's scarred face. He didn't know what could have done that—he had made all the efforts to be polite. Snake was silent, waiting for whatever the other Hydra would say (if anything at all); he knew that if it bothered him enough, he would speak it. And when he did, it managed to be the opposite of what he was expecting. Hybrid was not as much offended by the lack of pleasantries as by the presence of them. The blond coyote paused for a moment, mulling this over. He had never really been put on the spot for things he said out of robotic instinct, ingrained since childhood. Manners hadn't existed in New Haven, but discipline sure as hell did. He had learned to play it safe rather than sorry, no questioning it.
Now he had to question it. "Pleasantry. Commonly used—sometimes because superiors get offended if you do not use it, other times used to diffuse situations that threaten to get tense." The words came from him like letters printed from a computer—he found safety in a general observation before continuing, "And you are a Hydra of Inferni, as am I. It's best to know those that you work with, in order to better perform your duty. I regret not having met you or Halo before the fight." He had known their names and their faces, but nothing more that—other than slight reputation. He planned to mend that. Snake was certainly not social, but he understood that he needed to protect Inferni. To do that, he imagined it was best to be able to work well with the other warriors. And that meant knowing strengths, weaknesses, idiosyncrasies, psyches, egos, and all sorts of other things. Needless to say, Snake's machine-like mind was drawing conclusions already.
[/html]
Snake had been much the same way until recently—at least when it came to being mostly anti-social in the clan. Before the war he had spent most of his time either on the borders, training, or at home in the landfill. No one ever came there, so his solitude had been thankfully well-preserved. It wasn't as much that he hated company—he didn't mind it, but he usually felt strange around others and usually because others felt strange around him. Most weren't used to the blank interface, devoid of emotion except in brief flashes and glimmers. Some managed to get around it, but precedent made Snake nervous sometimes. He usually thought it better for everyone to remain solitary.
But despite all of that, the coyote was puzzled for a moment as he noticed a flash of confusion steal across Hybrid's scarred face. He didn't know what could have done that—he had made all the efforts to be polite. Snake was silent, waiting for whatever the other Hydra would say (if anything at all); he knew that if it bothered him enough, he would speak it. And when he did, it managed to be the opposite of what he was expecting. Hybrid was not as much offended by the lack of pleasantries as by the presence of them. The blond coyote paused for a moment, mulling this over. He had never really been put on the spot for things he said out of robotic instinct, ingrained since childhood. Manners hadn't existed in New Haven, but discipline sure as hell did. He had learned to play it safe rather than sorry, no questioning it.
Now he had to question it. "Pleasantry. Commonly used—sometimes because superiors get offended if you do not use it, other times used to diffuse situations that threaten to get tense." The words came from him like letters printed from a computer—he found safety in a general observation before continuing, "And you are a Hydra of Inferni, as am I. It's best to know those that you work with, in order to better perform your duty. I regret not having met you or Halo before the fight." He had known their names and their faces, but nothing more that—other than slight reputation. He planned to mend that. Snake was certainly not social, but he understood that he needed to protect Inferni. To do that, he imagined it was best to be able to work well with the other warriors. And that meant knowing strengths, weaknesses, idiosyncrasies, psyches, egos, and all sorts of other things. Needless to say, Snake's machine-like mind was drawing conclusions already.