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đ»đđ€Ą
â THE CARNIVAL
â
. THE TEMPLES
There's a subtle shift in the music you will hear drifting on the wind this month - gone is the calliope that screams just a little too loud, replaced instead by circus music that sounds cheerful and bright. The thrill rides are still undercut by rock music, but it seems less sinister. Any time you venture out, you'll find the people milling about are smiling, and none of those smiles seem like screams turned upside down.
The Caravan Temple remains - dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. Thereâs a toilet, but if you want a shower youâll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Access to the High Temple is also available to all Travelers this month.
â Ą. CONCERT AND CANDY
CW: alcohol and drug use, sax music.
It wouldn't be a carnival if you didn't eat like a garbage disposal.
There's corndogs, deep fried mars bars, popcorn, donuts, funnel cakes, cheese fries, lemonade, burgers... Go on. Eat like you have a personal vendetta against your gastrointestinal tract. And of course you ought to help yourself to some cotton candy, because what's a fair without cotton candy?
There's pink and there's blue. Whichever colour you choose, you'll find that you start to feel a little funny after you eat it.
The pink cotton candy will fill you with a sense of pleasant euphoria. You'll find it easier to talk to people, and you'll find them just so much more pleasant than usual. You'll be empathetic, and just filled with love for life. You might even want to hug people, even if you're not usually the touchy feely type. You just feel so good.
The blue cotton candy will also make you feel good, but it's more mellow than the pink - you don't want to run around hugging people so much as you want to just chill out somewhere. You'll feel very relaxed, very open to talking to others about deep subjects like whether or not Kubrick really did fake the moon landing, man. Everything seems just a little more amusing, a little easier to handle.
To make things even better, there are outdoor concerts at night. No matter what band is on stage, you find yourself really enjoying it, even if the music isnât usually your thing. There are kegs of beer set up around the edges of the concert area and youâre free to help yourself.
All that cotton candy and cheap beer might impair your judgement a little. Maybe... enough to get a tattoo? Calm down, theyâre temporary. Thereâs a stand called Pirate Peteâs on the midway not far from the concert where a guy dressed as a pirate - Pete, presumably - will be happy to draw whatever you want on your choice of body part.
Whatever you wind up getting, youâll find that whenever you or someone else touches it youâll experience a vision of a memory associated with the imagery of your tattoo. So if you get a snarling wolf, you might experience a memory of a time you treated someone savagely. If you get âMomâ in a heart, maybe you and whoever else happens to brush against it will see a memory of your dear old mother. Gosh, this could get revealing or embarrassing fast!
Fucking Pete.
â ą. TUNNEL OF LOVE
CW: potentially sexual content
Maybe it's the cotton candy, or maybe you're just really captivated by the swan boats, but you find yourself drawn to one of the cheesiest rides in the place: the Tunnel of Love.
You can't ride alone, of course - this is the sort of thing meant for two! The guy running the ride ushers one of your fellow travelers on with you, then wolf-whistles, imitates a cat noise and a bed squeaking, then purrs, pants, barks, howls, twiddle his lips and says. âHubba hubba!â
He ignores you when you glare at him.
The inside of the tunnel is surprisingly pleasant - it does not, as a matter of fact, smell of stale water or unmentionable bodily fluids. The water you're floating on is crisp and clear, like a real spring, and alongside either side of it are miniature rolling hills of what looks like real grass. The lights are low and pinkish, casting a soft glow over everything.
And they're playing one of your favourite songs on the speakers! Whatever that may be.
As you ride along, you'll start to think that your companion is just incredibly witty and intelligent and good looking. These feelings may be sexual or romantic, or they may be perfectly platonic - the result either way is that you really, really think this person is just the absolute greatest. You might find yourself telling them things you never would normally. Or doing things you might not otherwiseâŠ
Of course, the second you're off the ride you might find all of those fuzzy feelings depart. Better hope you didn't do anything TOO embarrassing.
â Ł. HAUNTED HOUSE
CW: violence, blood
You might be on carnival island, but itâs still October. Itâs time to get spooky! And what better way to do that than to take a ride through the haunted house?
A bearded fellow in half-assed clown makeup and an Uncle Sam costume loads you onto a small rail car with at least one other person. It rolls forward along the bumpy tracks into darkness. Not that it stays totally dark for long - sickly lights illuminate animatronics and mannequins posed alongside the track. There are foam cemeteries and giant rubber spiders galore.
As you move further and further into the attraction the better the decorations get. Those rubber spiders now look awfully real, and that bat that just dive bombed the car sure seemed legit.
Suddenly the car jerks to a halt. You peer around in the gloom, and then lights go up.
One bathes a coffin in red. Another illuminates a gravestone in green. The last is a facsimile of the moon itself, pale and silver.
Before you can do more than wonder what the heck is going on, one of these attractions splits open and a monster leaps toward you. A vampire, a ghost, or a werewolf respectively. If youâre quick you can get out of the way and run for the exit.
If youâre not?
The vampireâs teeth sink into your veins. The ghostâs cold hand wraps around your heart. The werewolfâs claws tear your flesh.
Youâre lucky in that it doesnât kill you; somehow you manage to get away and stumble outside, where you swiftly discover that the rest of your month is going to be pretty goddamn strange as you transform right then and there into whatever monster attacked you.
Thatâs right, for the month of October you may have to figure out a way to deal with cravings for flesh and blood, or how to get anything done when objects just fall right through your glowing hands.
You may be understandably upset about this. If you return to the Haunted House and accost the guy running it, heâll tell you that the only way to break the curse is to admit to why you see yourself as that monstrous archetype. Now piss off, he ainât got time for your jackassy questions.
The kind of jams that last all night.
There's a subtle shift in the music you will hear drifting on the wind this month - gone is the calliope that screams just a little too loud, replaced instead by circus music that sounds cheerful and bright. The thrill rides are still undercut by rock music, but it seems less sinister. Any time you venture out, you'll find the people milling about are smiling, and none of those smiles seem like screams turned upside down.
The Caravan Temple remains - dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. Thereâs a toilet, but if you want a shower youâll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.
The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.
Access to the High Temple is also available to all Travelers this month.
Notes:
1. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.
2. These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.
3. Your character will revert to their true age if they were affected by the carousel last month.
4. The Test your Strength game can be played by anyone. How well your character does is entirely up to you, but the game does not necessarily measure physical strength.
5. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.
6. Have fun!
â Ą. CONCERT AND CANDY
CW: alcohol and drug use, sax music.
It wouldn't be a carnival if you didn't eat like a garbage disposal.
There's corndogs, deep fried mars bars, popcorn, donuts, funnel cakes, cheese fries, lemonade, burgers... Go on. Eat like you have a personal vendetta against your gastrointestinal tract. And of course you ought to help yourself to some cotton candy, because what's a fair without cotton candy?
There's pink and there's blue. Whichever colour you choose, you'll find that you start to feel a little funny after you eat it.
The pink cotton candy will fill you with a sense of pleasant euphoria. You'll find it easier to talk to people, and you'll find them just so much more pleasant than usual. You'll be empathetic, and just filled with love for life. You might even want to hug people, even if you're not usually the touchy feely type. You just feel so good.
The blue cotton candy will also make you feel good, but it's more mellow than the pink - you don't want to run around hugging people so much as you want to just chill out somewhere. You'll feel very relaxed, very open to talking to others about deep subjects like whether or not Kubrick really did fake the moon landing, man. Everything seems just a little more amusing, a little easier to handle.
To make things even better, there are outdoor concerts at night. No matter what band is on stage, you find yourself really enjoying it, even if the music isnât usually your thing. There are kegs of beer set up around the edges of the concert area and youâre free to help yourself.All that cotton candy and cheap beer might impair your judgement a little. Maybe... enough to get a tattoo? Calm down, theyâre temporary. Thereâs a stand called Pirate Peteâs on the midway not far from the concert where a guy dressed as a pirate - Pete, presumably - will be happy to draw whatever you want on your choice of body part.
Whatever you wind up getting, youâll find that whenever you or someone else touches it youâll experience a vision of a memory associated with the imagery of your tattoo. So if you get a snarling wolf, you might experience a memory of a time you treated someone savagely. If you get âMomâ in a heart, maybe you and whoever else happens to brush against it will see a memory of your dear old mother. Gosh, this could get revealing or embarrassing fast!
Fucking Pete.
Notes:
1. Any food found on the midway is consumable by non-human entities. The cotton candy will likewise affect anyone who is not human.
2. I still believe.
3. The memory can be one that your character has repressed or forgotten.
â ą. TUNNEL OF LOVE
CW: potentially sexual content
Maybe it's the cotton candy, or maybe you're just really captivated by the swan boats, but you find yourself drawn to one of the cheesiest rides in the place: the Tunnel of Love.
You can't ride alone, of course - this is the sort of thing meant for two! The guy running the ride ushers one of your fellow travelers on with you, then wolf-whistles, imitates a cat noise and a bed squeaking, then purrs, pants, barks, howls, twiddle his lips and says. âHubba hubba!âHe ignores you when you glare at him.
The inside of the tunnel is surprisingly pleasant - it does not, as a matter of fact, smell of stale water or unmentionable bodily fluids. The water you're floating on is crisp and clear, like a real spring, and alongside either side of it are miniature rolling hills of what looks like real grass. The lights are low and pinkish, casting a soft glow over everything.
And they're playing one of your favourite songs on the speakers! Whatever that may be.
As you ride along, you'll start to think that your companion is just incredibly witty and intelligent and good looking. These feelings may be sexual or romantic, or they may be perfectly platonic - the result either way is that you really, really think this person is just the absolute greatest. You might find yourself telling them things you never would normally. Or doing things you might not otherwiseâŠ
Of course, the second you're off the ride you might find all of those fuzzy feelings depart. Better hope you didn't do anything TOO embarrassing.
Notes:
1. Only for characters of age havin the intercourse, please.
2. If your characters want to get naughty, they may discover that these swan boats have a little glove box containing condoms, lube and the like. You could also just fill the former up with water and throw them at that guy running the ride when it's over.
â Ł. HAUNTED HOUSE
CW: violence, blood
You might be on carnival island, but itâs still October. Itâs time to get spooky! And what better way to do that than to take a ride through the haunted house?
A bearded fellow in half-assed clown makeup and an Uncle Sam costume loads you onto a small rail car with at least one other person. It rolls forward along the bumpy tracks into darkness. Not that it stays totally dark for long - sickly lights illuminate animatronics and mannequins posed alongside the track. There are foam cemeteries and giant rubber spiders galore.
As you move further and further into the attraction the better the decorations get. Those rubber spiders now look awfully real, and that bat that just dive bombed the car sure seemed legit.
Suddenly the car jerks to a halt. You peer around in the gloom, and then lights go up.
One bathes a coffin in red. Another illuminates a gravestone in green. The last is a facsimile of the moon itself, pale and silver.
Before you can do more than wonder what the heck is going on, one of these attractions splits open and a monster leaps toward you. A vampire, a ghost, or a werewolf respectively. If youâre quick you can get out of the way and run for the exit.
If youâre not?
The vampireâs teeth sink into your veins. The ghostâs cold hand wraps around your heart. The werewolfâs claws tear your flesh.
Youâre lucky in that it doesnât kill you; somehow you manage to get away and stumble outside, where you swiftly discover that the rest of your month is going to be pretty goddamn strange as you transform right then and there into whatever monster attacked you.Thatâs right, for the month of October you may have to figure out a way to deal with cravings for flesh and blood, or how to get anything done when objects just fall right through your glowing hands.
You may be understandably upset about this. If you return to the Haunted House and accost the guy running it, heâll tell you that the only way to break the curse is to admit to why you see yourself as that monstrous archetype. Now piss off, he ainât got time for your jackassy questions.
Notes:
1. To return to their natural state, your character must reveal a personality trait or incident that would correspond to the monster theyâve turned into. For example, a person turned vampire might talk about how they feel they drain other peopleâs energy with their problems, or that they feel drained by other peopleâs. A ghost might not be able to let go of the past, and a werewolf might have anger issues. Interpret as you will!
2. The monsters can abide by any monster rules that you like. Is your vampire a Twilight vampire or a Dracula? Itâs up to you!
3. The horror ride guy is weirdly impervious to harm.
4. All characters will return to normal at the end of October.
Tunnel of Love
His would-be boat buddy is tapped on the shoulder and given a hasty spiel about how she needs to get on this swan and sheâs very sorry and sheâs sure whoever they ride with is going to be excellent company but she really must insist on taking this seat and thank you very much.
Before the bemused individual can actually give an answer, Chloe has hopped into the boat. Happily chatting away, Connor doesnât seem to be any the wiser. Chloeâs smile could light up the entire tunnel.
âA prototype? Oh, do tell me more. Iâm sure you have all kinds of fascinating features.â
And yes, Chloe does already have her head on his shoulder.
no subject
Connor finally stops talking long enough to notice two things: his seatmate is resting her head on his shoulder, and also, she's Chloe. Neither of these things are in any way bad, but they still make him blush blue at the way he was prattling on about himself to another android. To Chloe.
"You should have stopped me, Chloe." The embarrassment is coating his voice like syrup, but he shifts in his seat anyway, in order to slide his arm behind her back and pull her in closer. This way he can rest his cheek on top of her head, the way he likes to. The way it's comfortable. "You're looking a lot happier than the last time I saw you." It's not so much a question as a gentle prodding curiosity, an invitation to talk if she wants to.
no subject
âI like listening to you. Hearing you talk. Your voice.â Her own has an ever so slight dream-like quality to it. He has no need to be embarrassed. She doesnât find him irksome or awkward in any way. If he wanted to list every single one of his function in laborious detail, she would hang on every word.
With a contented hum, she rests a hand on his knee when he draws her closer. For the first time, she notes how she seems to fit against him. How his cheek rests upon her head just so. Itâs⊠easy. He appears to be at ease, having her so near. Holding her. Even when no emotional turmoil that could serve as an excuse for such proximity is present.
âI feel happier.â True, the cotton candy plays a part but it isnât entirely responsible. âI donât feel so afraid of the things I think or the things I do. The things I feelâŠâ She pauses a moment, stroking lazy patterns on his knee. âBut donât just talk about me. Tell me about you. I hope youâve been having the loveliest time.â
no subject
He looks up at her again when her hand rests on his knee, and like her he's aware of how they seem to fit together so snugly, comfortably. It relaxes him, makes him lose his nervous tension. He likes holding her, having her so close. It's been a while since he's felt so at ease with someone.
The smile he gives her could light up the entire tunnel. "I'm so happy for you, Chloe. It's long overdue. I can't think of anyone who deserves to feel good about themselves more than you." Okay, he's sort of oblivious, but his sincerity is genuine.
"I have! I've tried a lot of carnival food, and I listened to music and danced, too! I got this tattoo and went on more rides. If I had known you would be here, I would've waited for you but I didn't want to bother you in case you were still feeling upset. Have you tried any funnel cakes yet? They're sugary and messy but they're really good..." He goes on like this for a while, talking about his adventures at the carnival without a care in the world as the car they're in begins to move.
no subject
"I always want you to bother me," she tells him, going back to a very important point that needs to be made. "Not that you're ever bothering me. I wish you'd hold hands with me every night." It all rolls so easily off the tongue. She doesn't even bat an eyelid about it.
Swan journeying along the water, she keeps looking up at him. Drinks in every line and contour of his features. Each time she lays eyes on him, he draws her in more. She shifts in his hold so she can face him more. It leaves her perched rather awkwardly on the seat but she doesn't care at all. Like this, she can gently trace the features that have captivated her so.
Fingertips trailing over his cheeks, his lips, the line of his jaw, she can't help making a confession she'll be embarrassed by later. "I could have waited for you, too. But I didn't want to. I pushed through the line and took this seat from someone else. I didn't want to wait. I wanted to be close to you again."
no subject
"Every night? Do you mean it?" He turns away quickly, averting his eyes to watch the animatronics in the tunnel and clearing his throat unnecessarily. Self-consciously. When she shifts, he can't help but look at her questioningly, wondering what she sees there that holds her attention. Does he have something on his face? His eyebrows draw together into a frown at her actions, but he doesn't stop her, instead keeping his eyes fixed on hers, his head tilting in confusion.
"You wanted to be close to me?" He's aware that he keeps repeating what she's said, but he can't help it, his processor isn't parsing her motives. They've been friends for several months now, so why is she suddenly pushing people out of the way to sit next to him on a ride? Why is she suddenly tracing over his features with her fingertips like she's never seen him before? Why is his body suddenly feeling warm and flushed, his eyes widening, his pupils blown in response to her closeness?
no subject
Cupping his cheek, she strokes his skin with her thumb as blue eyes are transfixed by brown. She picks up on his repetition enough to think she should choose her words more carefully. Except there are just so many things she wants to say. All these little notions that are blooming like the first buds of spring.
Should she feel this compelled? Maybe not. Does she consider that it might be yet another product of the island? Slightly. Momentarily. Vaguely.
Maybe it's only bringing what's already there to the fore.
Words. She was going to choose words more carefully.
"I don't want to scare you away," she murmurs. "I'd never want you to feel you need to become involved in anything you don't understand or aren't ready for. Or something you just don't want, not really. But I need to tell you how special you are. How much you mean to me. Even if we're never anything more than friends, I need to you know."
no subject
"I- I wouldn't say...no? That sounds nice."
His thoughts are tripping over themselves, looping between trying to judge her sincerity and simply wanting to go along with it all. He's aware that he'd kissed her a few months back in a time of need, and that she'd shut him down. He's accepted her decision, and hasn't asked or tried for anything more in the time since. He doesn't want to ruin the closeness they've found as friends. He's not sure what's changed? Sure, she's finally deviated completely, but that shouldn't have any effect on her feelings for him. What's different? If only his thoughts were more clear- but they're still fuzzy from the cotton candy, even if he's not aware of that. All he knows is that his brain feels like it's wrapped in literal cotton, and that look in her eyes is drawing him in.
His mouth opens, but no words come. His eyes search hers, his hand reaching up to hold her hand on his cheek.
"I'm not afraid." Not what he planned to say, but it's what spills out. "I understand, and I..." His eyes travel to her lips, then back up to meet her eyes again. "You are special to me, too. And I- I want."
He's not entirely sure what he wants, but he knows whatever it is, he wants it.
no subject
Only it hasn't been one lone kiss really, has it? He's been there for her. He's held her close. She's done the same for him. As friends, certainly, and being there as friends are, but there was an intimacy to it, wasn't there? An intimacy beyond being android confidants and lost souls and shared experiences.
Her processing comes to a screeching halt as the simple gesture of his hand covering hers makes her shiver.
He wants.
She had wanted, too. And still does.
And it's enough.
Leaning in closer, her nose brushes against his. A memory from his time of need bubbles its way in, and she heeds the message it gives. She doesn't want to upset him. Make him doubt. Not again.
And to be sure. Just to be sure.
"Connor... is it okay if we kiss? I'd like to kiss you again..."
no subject
When their noses ghost along each other, his LED blips red for a moment, before settling back into yellow, waiting to see what happens next. He's very aware of her; her scent filling his senses, the feel of her body pressed into his. His lips part in uncertainty as she whispers into his mouth, the entire moment poised on the edge of eternity as he feels his body still, afraid to breathe lest he break the fragile balance. He swallows unnecessarily, transfixed by her presence, his chin tipping forward minutely in a nod before he finds his words, whisper-quiet.
"Yes. Please?"
no subject
In this moment, she wants to be clear.
Closing the gap, her lips find his. At first, she only gives sweet little pecks and hums against his lips. There's no need to rush. No need to be frantic.
He wants.
And she's special to him, too.
One peck gradually becomes a deeper kiss. Her hand leaves his cheek so both of hers can weave their way into his hair. As her tongue finds his, her body manages to press closer still. Almost feeling overloaded, she breaks the kiss only so she can whine.
So he can hear her make that noise.
Then her mouth is back to seeking his.
no subject
His hands drop to her sides, holding her to him, and this time he's responding more definitively, using his own tongue to explore her mouth, swiping away with a thought the distraction of his forensic analysis of her artificial saliva. It would be amusing to him if it wasn't so- so. Keeping him from being fully in the moment. He disengages the program, offlining it temporarily. Much better. Now he can taste her rather than analyze her, and what he finds is overwhelming. He's not breaking everything down into individual components, but experiencing her as a whole, her tongue against his and the lingering sweetness of the cotton candy she'd consumed tingling on his tongue. Without realizing it, his hands have moved again, splayed against her back with his arms now fully around her, so close he's practically pulled her into his lap. He's making noises now too, small whimpers low in his throat, trying to deepen their kiss further still. They don't need to breathe, but kissing Chloe is enough to making his biocomponents overheat as he finally, belatedly realizes that what he wants, what he's wanted all along, is her.
no subject
Contrary to the way she follows his urging and shifts herself into his lap, sex isn't at the top of Chloe's agenda. More of a footnote. Kissing is good. Kissing is very good. Being embraced is very good. His responsive touches are very good. They could never lead to anything more and Chloe wouldn't feel something was missing. It's the closeness that she craves. Caring for someone, being cared for in return, emotional connection. Intimacy.
Intimacy. They have a form of intimacy that doesn't require such a human physical act. One that may be more comfortable for them both. She reaches to take one of his hands. Lacing their fingers together, she deactivates her skin. "Connor... connect with me...?" she asks in a husky whisper. It's a more romantic phrasing, and one indicative of why she's made the request.
Not that her lips cease their exploration for long. Words out of her mouth, she peppers his jaw, the corners of his mouth, his cheeks with little kisses. Verbal descriptors fall short of what she seeks to say, each kiss serving as a tiny note instead.
no subject
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He blows out a disgruntled breath, ruffling the stray lock of hair over his forehead. "It's- Cyberlife. They...equipped me with the Traci protocols. And the hardware." God, so embarrassing. What must she think of him? Barely kissing and he's already right there. Fucking Cyberlife. His arms slide away from her to cross over his chest so he can hug himself, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. The flush has spread to encompass the whole of his face and neck, disappearing into his shirt. He mumbles, so low she might strain to hear him. "I didn't mean for that to happen. It's an automatic response." And he's currently working to disengage those protocols, easier said than done when they're hardwired into him and he doesn't have the experience necessary to at least temper his reactions. And Chloe- she means so much more to him than that -not that he could prove it to her now. God damn fucking Cyberlife. Again.
no subject
A rabbit hole to dive down another time. Or maybe just try to jump over.
Slipping out of his lap, she sits next to him. She stays close enough to say she isnât upset or anything of the sort but not so close to be suggestive. Gently, she finds one of his hands just so she can hold it. âItâs okay,â she whispers back to him. âItâs not as though I mind. And I understand.â
Sheâll cycle back to the subject of programming. First, apologies of her own need to be made. âIâm sorry too. I didnât mean to come on so strongly or to pressure you⊠I donât⊠Thereâs nothing I expect from you, Connor.â Sheâs always been a little too much. Wanted too much. Itâs what put her in the position she was in, isnât it? The wanting. The longing. Asking for that level of intimacy from him, and so flippantly, was⊠a step too far. They may have connected in that way before so she could see his experience with Amanda, but this is a vastly different context.
Stroking his hand, she falls quiet. Traci protocols. They can relate to each other in ways neither of them would probably ever expected. And ways neither of them would probably wish the other could. It raises an uncomfortable question â did he really want at all? His permission had seemed genuine, but those lines between the self and the script can be dubious. Lines Chloe doesnât want to cross or blur any more than she may have already.
no subject
He feels the loss when she slips away from him, and he knows immediately that the gulf between them that's suddenly opened wide needs to be bridged, and fast. The coil of desire tightens in his stomach, pooling there even as it cools.
"Those protocols were installed in me for undercover work- if the need ever arose, I would be able to fulfill whatever might be requested of me in order to further the goals of accomplishing my mission. They were never supposed to be used because of my own want." He squeezes Chloe's hand, his thumb stroking the back of it. "I was programmed for sex, but I wasn't programmed for any of the feelings that might arise from it." He blows out another breath, frustrated at his inability to articulate an explanation. "What I mean is, I- I want to. I want you. But not yet. Not right now, not so soon. And- And I don't want you to think that that's all I want from you. Not after Kamski. Not after how he treated you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't control myself, because I don't want you to ever think that you're just initiating my protocols, that you could be just anybody. Because that's not true. You mean more than that to me, so much more. I'm sorry if my reaction made you feel differently, I didn't mean it. I couldn't control it. I've never been in a situation where the protocols came online before."
His eyes are shining wet beneath his lashes, so afraid that he's ruined his relationship with Chloe, the friendship they've worked so carefully to construct together. He can practically see the cracks forming in the foundation, threatening to destabilize the whole structure, and no matter how desperately he wants to hold onto it, he knows that pressure will only make it crumble faster. He's not like Kamski, he isn't. He doesn't want to be. Could she ever possibly forgive him for making her feel like this is her fault?