Android AU

[worthallthis]

Coming in out of the snow, he says, "Hey, Misty, I'm home."

Since the robot isn't even finished, let alone powered up, she's not actually able to answer. He doesn't care. It's not like he's got anyone else to talk to besides the cat, and the cat's not in here, out catching mice or maybe sleeping in the attached little barn.

"Got some parts that might finish you up, finally," he continues, stamping snow off his boots and hanging up his coat. The metal arm vibrates a little, trying to shake the cold from its circuits, and he puts a kettle on the stove before padding over to the mostly-finished robot in the corner and dropping his pack next to her. She doesn't look perfectly human, but she's as close as he can get with the spare parts he's been scrounging up on his trips out into the world.

What's left of the world, anyway. War and disease and famine have made a mess of things, and he's long since given up on trying to do what he can do to stop it, and just helps where he can. The arm makes him stand out, though. That and his general good health. It's getting harder and harder to keep a low profile, except among the one local group that considers him "theirs". Hence, android. With more clothes and a better wig, with a few upgrades once he knows he can make her work, she might pass better than he ever will, especially with the awkward way he imagine's she's going to move until he gets some better upgrades. Besides... he could use the company, way out here.

He puts together a little sandwich and mixes the cocoa into the hot water, then comes to see if what he's found can at least get her running.

It's late in the night, another sandwich and cocoa later, with only a brief break to let in the cat and give her a pet and dinner, that he finally sits back and says, "Well. Let's give this a try." And he reaches behind her, finds the series of switches, and sets them in their careful order. There's no one switch, there's a pattern. Then nobody can turn her off who doesn't know how.

Then he sits back to look up at her, and wait for her system to power up.

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[worthallthis]

The building is small, basically one big room with a closed off corner for the bathroom and bathtub and showerhead, the kitchen separated from the living area only by a peninsula counter and a change from layered rugs and carpet swatches, to tile. The walls are all paneled wood, hung here and there with pretty quilts that both brighten the space and keep in more warmth. There's a trap-door in the ceiling that likely leads up to a loft, but it's closed and locked.

His spice collection, though, is pretty impressive. For a long time, people didn't scavenge spices, and he's good at making them last. And now that people are starting to want things like that again, they make good trading items. Mostly, though, he just clearly likes to cook, based on the number of dishes, pots, pans, and ingredients, in the fridge and a large freezer off to one side. There's not a ton of room in the kitchen area, but it's all well-organized and neat, perfect for one person.

He pushes to sit up, swinging his feet down onto the floor and rubbing at his eyes with the flesh hand. "You cook?"

[shadowsran]

"I can't account for things like uneven heating or weathered tools," she explains, "And personal customization will have to be learned, but I have a catalog of basic recipes for all meals. If I can help, I would love to."

She stands prim, proper, with an enduring and calculated cheer. Not so high-energy as to overwhelm someone just waking, but warm. Prepared.

"Do you have favorites?"

[worthallthis]

"Sure, a bunch. I've been cooking a long time. Let me just. Clean up a little, and I'll show you where things are." Not that he hasn't heard her poking around in the cupboards, but he can then include things like good recipes and how much of a particular ingredient to use and which burner is the safest.

Damn, he's going to be the teacher, this time. That makes him sad all over again. He picks himself up and trudges over to the bathroom, collecting a clean flannel and jeans from the dresser on his way.

[shadowsran]

"Of course." Trailing is rude and basic comfort guidelines involve allowing space for grooming, dressing, and bathing, so she picks a neutral spot and waits, feet together and arms akimbo. Conversing is fair game however.

"Do you have any allergies or deficiencies I should be aware of?"

[worthallthis]

He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. He's more surprised she didn't follow him in. He does shut the door, though, and talks through it. "No. I do need to eat more than the standard human, though. So I spend a lot of time scavenging, trading, and hunting, when I'm not actually on the job somewhere. There's a little garden out back, but since it's winter, none of it's producing."

[shadowsran]

There was certainly a time her programming was rudimentary enough she would, but significant updates went into making her an inoffensive, polite companion.

"I'm not programmed to hunt," she notes, sadly, "But I'm equipped to forage and scavenge, and I would be more than happy to assist in any means of providing that I can."

[worthallthis]

"That's okay." He smiles a little to himself. "I am. We'll go over what I'm hoping you can do for me and the people out there after breakfast. Gonna take a quick shower, yeah? Let the cat out if she's sitting by the door, and I'll be out in a few minutes."

It's hard to talk over the sound of a shower. He'd love a bath, after the work he put in yesterday, but he doesn't want to keep her waiting. Tomorrow, maybe.

[shadowsran]

"Of course."

The cat is indeed at the door, and with a gentle little scratch Misty begrudgingly lets her outside. Hopefully she doesn't get lonely out there, hopefully there's no harm to be done. Bigger cats, or dogs.

And then she stands, putting the matter from her mind in favor of waiting still as a statue, for him to return. Nothing new to familiarize with, and though she'd like to watch out the windows she really ought to be where he expects.

So she waits.

"Hello," she greets, upon seeing him exit. "The cat is outside."

[worthallthis]

Seeing her just standing there waiting is vaguely unnerving, not necessarily because she's doing it, but because he's reminded eerily of when he used to do that. Years and years ago. Christ. At least she smiles while she does it-- which is perhaps actually more unnerving. Is she programmed to smile the way he was trained not to?

"Thanks. She gets most of her food out there, and if I keep her locked up she pees on everything in revenge," he says, stepping out and tugging his fingers through his hair, tangled and still a little drippy. But he's clean, he's warm, and he's starving. "So you know how to make an omelet?"

[shadowsran]

Something to learn how to clean, then. Cat needs she'll have to know to anticipate. Watching for cat seated by the door is added to the default routine.

"Yes!" She answers, chipper as ever. A beeline is made for the kitchen, well aware of the time that's lapsed since she can so much as infer he's eaten. Fridge, eggs, butter. "Do you take anything in them? Preferred cheeses, seasonings, meats?"

[worthallthis]

"There's some fish in the fridge. There's a lot of fish in the fridge, actually." He hates fishing the traditional way, but he actually really enjoys just grabbing them with his bare hands. And it's easier than stalking mammal or bird prey, honestly, especially in the winter. "Tomatoes, though they're runty this time of year, and plenty of cheese. You can get the eggs started, I'll chop the filling, yeah?"

[shadowsran]

"If you'd like." Implied meaning there being she's more than capable of handling the whole of the meal, but if he'd like to assist she's in no position whatsoever to stop him. She begins, efficient, graceful movements, lacking in any personal touches that might distract from the task at hand. She'll shift her weight from one foot to another while cracking eggs, but there's no whistling, no hum, no broken gaze to peek around the room or out any window.

"How much should I anticipate you eat in a day?"

[worthallthis]

Probably not gonna be more efficient at chopping than he is, android or not, especially not on the joints he's scavenged for her. "Three meals at a portion and a half compared to a standard diet, and I snack pretty much all day."

He neatly dices the tiny tomatoes from the greenhouse down the mountain, half an onion, and a whole side of a trout, before getting out the salt and pepper. "But I do wanna make this clear, from the start. I didn't put you back together to be my servant or caretaker or anything. There's more important work for you, out there." He points with the salt-shaker at the window, sure she can see him out of her peripheral vision. "For both of us."

[shadowsran]

"Of course."

She's for whatever she's needed for, even in light of gaps of programming the overriding concern is accommodation. Whatever he says the work is, is the work. She has no complaints, cheerily adding fillings as they're chopped.

"You'd mentioned that, and I'll wait for instruction. Being helpful company is what I'm intended to do under assigned tasks anyway. Always."

[worthallthis]

He decides not to press too hard on that. He's made himself clear, and she'll do with it what she will. It's not like he doesn't know what that's like. As he starts the coffee, he nods and says, "The world ain't like it used to be. There was a... thing. That happened in 2014. A group of people went on a high-tech shooting spree and took out huge chunks of the population. There was a war afterwards that lasted almost a decade. Ruined a lot of the world. We're piecing things back together, starting over, but it's slow. And it's hard."

[shadowsran]

She hardly has relevant information, but she may have been awake for that twilight of normal civilization as it was so recently known. It doesn't sound like downloading will be on the table much, so she'll have to pay more attention and ask more questions - survival is a large topic to undertake researching.

"I'll help any way that I can," she's quick to offer. "If nothing else I can explore and gather with no risk to anyone."

[worthallthis]

"I'm thinking you'll be easier for people to accept help from, who don't know me," Bucky explains, getting out plates and mugs-- then stopping, realizing she's not going to eat, and putting one of each back with a grimace. "I'm big, I'm strong, I'm healthier than most people out there these days, and I'm very clearly enhanced." He holds up the metal hand and wiggles the fingers, buzzing the gears at her a little. "You're inherently less threatening. Especially if they don't know you're not human."

[shadowsran]

Enhanced is when it clicks, and her eyebrows rise gently.

"Oh! You're human-?"

Too bold a question, too easy to take offense to, but understanding the user is important, and she had thus far imagined merely a superior, damaged model realistic enough to simulate eating. She plates as needed through her surprise.

[worthallthis]

He's not going to take offense. He's a little surprised, but not offended. His glance goes to the arm, then back to her, and he says, a little apologetically, "Aside from the arm, afraid so. That's attached, but I've had it for... shit, about a century now, actually." Which is clearly unusual, since he is human. Human's don't live that long.

[shadowsran]

"A century?"

Now he's lost her. Brows descend and furrow, head lilts.

"What do you mean?"

[worthallthis]

"Let me eat that and have my coffee, and I'll give you the whole story," he says, a little wearily. "It's complicated. But I'm about a hundred and thirty years old, going by my birth year." Whatever that day actually is.

[shadowsran]

Her eyes widen, and with one urgent nod she fetches him silverware and sits.

He needs to eat, of course, and that's an important thing to have hanging overhead, so she.

Sits, silently. The silence she hopes is companionable.

[worthallthis]

Fortified with a couple sips of his coffee-- the caffeine doesn't do anything for him unless he drinks the whole pot at once, and that's wasteful; it's just a comforting effect, at this point-- and a couple bites of the omelet, he starts off. "Those people who started the war, who made the world the mess it is. They used to own me. Like someone would own say they owned you. They'd keep me in cryofreeze whenever there wasn't a mission or. Training to be done."

He skips past the word "programming", not wanting to confuse her.

"So I spent about seventy years in and out of cryo. That accounts for some of my age. The rest. Well, I'm enhanced by more than just the arm. I've got an enhanced metabolism that apparently also keeps me from aging as fast as most humans do." He's got a handful of silver hairs, now, but by all rights he really ought to be an old man, not looking like he's just hit 40.

[shadowsran]

Horrendous, horrendous abuse of her owner. Or not-owner. Director.

"I'm sorry," she says, reflexive, but somber. "Are there any complications? Conditions? Things I could look out for-?"

[worthallthis]

"Just needing to eat a lot," he assures her. "Occasional nightmares. Some leftover scraps of conditioning, but that's mostly the useful stuff, so it doesn't get in the way of anything." He doesn't disassociate anymore, hasn't in over a decade; flashbacks happen now and then, but not often enough or bad enough that she'll have to deal with them. He tries to think through what about his life wouldn't be close enough to normal to worry her. "Might be a panic attack on rare occasions, but I know how to manage those myself, you don't have to worry about them."