(Untitled)

[skybot_snd]

The IPD office was by no means the ideal location to be sleeping in - the stiflingly chaotic presence of paperwork was overpowering to those unfamiliar with the phenomenon, as was the lingering, heavy smell of the Commander Vimes' Death Cigars. But the T-1000 had grown used to it during the past two weeks.

It was better than the holding cell. In a

Comments

[gotacigarette]

It's been just over a week, and Eden sure isn't sure that she's used to it yet, but then again, she isn't sure that it matters. She's been sleeping like the dead in the narrow bed in the crash room and she's gotten a few changes of clothing, even if somebody thought that it was being funny. She's actually sitting down trying to, if not actually relax then not think so hard.

And then something runs into her foot.

It looks like a very small wildcat. Eden raises an eyebrow.

"Hello..."

[skybot_snd]

There she was.

With Sinclair. And the Commander was nowhere in sight.

The T-1000 allowed himself to exhale in relief, posture relaxing though a jab of irritation at the jaguar's poorly timed escape attempt was also noted.

Sinclair was apparently attempting to make conversation with the cat, who in turn was conducting a thorough investigation of her shoes, employing mostly her nose for the time being. The T-1000 suspected teeth would soon follow. Sarah enjoyed taste-based inspection.

"Sinclair," he greeted with an almost cheerful nod as he approached. "That's Sarah. She doesn't generally talk human."

[gotacigarette]

"Never bothered Ruby, did it, love?"

Eden bends down and scoops up Sarah the way that she'd scoop up a housecat. Her paws are heavy and she's got a inquisitive look in her eyes. Eden ruffles the fur on top of her head.

"Hello, Austin. I wasn't expecting to see so much of you."

[skybot_snd]

Sarah didn't put up a fight or act in a particularly hostile manner, which made sense. She tended to focus the majority of her predatory instinct on him, and the T-1000 encouraged it for the most part. Sarah had to learn how to be a jaguar somehow, and he made a good target.

"So much of-" he frowned, failing to comprehend Sinclair's meaning until he considered all the possibilities. "Oh. Is that a problem?" He wasn't even fully naked.

[not_a_flaw]

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

D'Anna was, needless to say, unimpressed by the what the shelf had to offer. The front and back covers of the book were insulting enough on their own; she wondered what sort of horrors awaited within. Though she wasn't entirely sure if she should subject herself to anymore of Mr Asimov ideas. The man was clearly racist.

Looking to the entrance of the rec room as someone appeared, she watched for a moment, brow arched slightly. "Lose something?" she asked. His clothing, for instance.

[skybot_snd]

"Maybe," the T-1000 replied noncommittally, eying the woman with some suspicion, since he wasn't sure what her stance on keeping wildcats inside the compound was. "Have you seen a," he paused, trying to find a suitably neutral term, "cat, somewhere in the area?"

He kept looking around as he made his way closer to the center of the room. Sarah was nowhere to be seen.

"And you shouldn't read that," his expression turned into a displeased frown as he noticed the book the woman was holding. The bookshelf had attempted to offer it to him once, and he'd given it a very firm glare in return. He hadn't seen the book since, which was fortunate for all parties involved. "Asimov is an idiot." Most humans who attempted to write about artificial organisms were, in his view.

[not_a_flaw]

"I'm pretty certain I've seen at least half a dozen of them." If there was one thing the compound wasn't lacking in, it was cats. D'Anna didn't mind them so much, although she did prefer dogs. She still missed Jake every now and again.

"No, you're right, I probably shouldn't," she agreed, thumbing the books pages, wondering if anyone ever actually got a laugh from the shelves attempts at humor at their expense. The thing hadn't gotten so much as a smile from her since she's been on the island. "He does appear to be exactly that, yes. You've read it?"

[skybot_snd]

"You would notice this specific cat," the T-1000 attempted to specify while still remaining within a range of comfortable vagueness. "She's larger than usual."

Staying in the rec area was hindering his search for Sarah, but the topic of Asimov and his deluded set of 'laws' wasn't something he could simply disregard.

"And I haven't read it directly." He had, however, been programmed with fairly comprehensive data on popular literature. "But anybody who thinks it's viable to create sentient beings for the service of humanity must possess both an inflated view of themselves and a complete lack of survival instinct." It actually described humanity pretty well, he thought.

[rdex]

Ronon hadn't been able to sleep. While his hut had already been completed, he didn't really feel like sleeping in it. It didn't have anything in it anyway other than a blanket and a pillow and a housewarming gift from Mckay. He'd need to get more stuff. Preferably sharp things. He wondered how he would get those sort of things here. He'd probably have to make them himself

[skybot_snd]

Great.

Sarah had apparently decided to run off to attempt suicide by subtly attacking a large human.

An irritatingly familiar large human.

The walrus man didn't seem to be violent to the jaguar, though, and he wasn't pointing a gun at anyone yet, which was an improvement of a sort, the T-1000 supposed. So for the time being, he only warranted a glare of medium intensity, for the simple privilege of being himself.

"Sarah, you shouldn't chew on the walrus," he advised the cat sternly as he neared the table, gaze drifting slowly from her, to the man's chewed-upon feet, to his face. "He might confuse you for a lizard."

[rdex]

Ronon looked up when he heard someone approach, his lip curling into a sneer when he realized who it was. The terminator guy again. Bearing insults even. While half naked. Yeah, that was scary alright.

Ronon angled his head into a glare, ready to jump from the table and attack the guy if he had to. "There's only one lizard around here and I'm looking right at it. It looks even uglier than before."

[skybot_snd]

"Don't call me an it," the response was formed, cold and hard, before he even had the chance to process the words fully. It wasn't a matter of insults. He couldn't care less what the man thought of his appearance. "You can call me a lizard, but don't call me an it."

He suspected there were people who thought of him that way, but nobody had been stupid enough to call him that to his face. Until now.

He drew a long breath, attempting to calm down. He didn't want to get into a fight, especially not with Sarah in the vicinity. She could get hurt.

[agent_dean]

"It's very important you read the instructions first," Brendan informed the cat. "I mean, you can't just start poking stuff without having any idea what you're doing, right?" He stared at the smallish jungle cat, waiting for some kind of confirmation, but merely got a bit of lip smacking in response.

If this was his spirit guide, then so far - Brendan remained unenlightened.

He had been sitting at the end of one of the long rec room tables, a cell phone repair manual open in front of him, when the cat had jumped up onto the table and made a rather loud and attention-grabbing purring/meowing sound. So far, all attempts to communicate with her had been fairly unsuccessful.

"Are you hungry?" Brendan tried. Did spirit guides eat? When the cat meowed again, her tail curling and swishing lightly over the table, Brendan furrowed his brow into a slight frown. "I'm wrong again, aren't I?"

Nope. No enlightenment here.

[skybot_snd]

Sarah had been discovered by IPD.

The T-1000 was caught between irritation at the jaguar's failure to be stealthy and panic at the never-more-tangible possibility of the Commander finding out.

But if Sheppard was having a serious conversation with the cat, maybe there was a chance he wouldn't mind her presence in the office. He had to make sure.

"She's always hungry," he informed the man as he neared the table. His mouth quirked into a half-smile, slightly tentative under the circumstances, "You can't be wrong about that."

Sarah gave him a look that could be interpreted as reproachful or hungry or both, and he returned a glare. It was true, and no feline denials would convince him otherwise. There were important matters to attend to first, though, before engaging in wildcat versus terminator staredowns.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Commander Vimes she's mine, John. He really doesn't need to know," he made an effort to sound casual, to stop the urgency from reaching his voice. "Please?"

[agent_dean]

Brendan looked up at the voice, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the naked man in the towel. He quickly averted his eyes, looking back at the cat instead. "Yes, yes, she's yours then? I kind of thought ... well, that's not important." Brendan decided that it might be time to let the whole 'spirit guide' thing go.

At the mention of Commander Vimes, Brendan furrowed his brow slightly in thought. Samuel Vimes, maybe, his entry in the directory had been rather short and lacking in information. "I'm not John," Brendan offered instead, "and if I ever run into Commander Vimes, I promise I won't tell him about your friend."

[skybot_snd]

"Oh, you're a clone. It happens." Upon closer inspection, it was noticeable enough, and the T-1000 knew better than to be fooled by physical appearance alone. He should have seen it earlier, but he'd been distracted by daring jaguar escapes. "I don't have clones here, but Sheppard's commanding officer looked like me, only older. And he got eaten by aliens," he relayed it all rather enthusiastically, since it was information he didn't usually get to share. "I died differently. Molten metal." The enthusiasm definitely died down on that part.

"And thanks, not John, I appreciate it," he said genuinely, taking a seat across from the Sheppard clone and studying him inquisitively. He entirely ignored the man's reaction to his somewhat nude state. "Who are you, then?"

[loaded_wolf]

Angua shadowed Austin out of pure curiosity. She was still teaching Gavin stealth, much as she could, and wanted to see how long the wolf would keep their presence under wraps.

When it looked like Austin was going to slip into the rec room, Angua spoke up. "Austin, what are you doing creeping around the hallway in a towel?" she asked, sounding disapproving, though her expression gave away her amusement.

[skybot_snd]

There was somebody following him, which made the T-1000 briefly consider the possible advantages of towel-based warfare.

There weren't many.

He turned around abruptly when the query was made, tensing.

"Angua."

Since there had been some accusation in her voice, he decided to attempt to look appropriately guilty for the occasion. There was, of course, a strong distinction between looking and being guilty. He wasn't sure what he was currently guilty of. Other than inappropriate jaguar maintenance, possibly.

"Which part is problematic, the creeping or the towel?" he asked to clarify. His gaze slid to her companion in stealth - a wolf cub. While the T-1000 wasn't precisely a dog person, wolves didn't fit under the dog definition, as far as he was concerned. "And that's a nice wolf, by the way."

[loaded_wolf]

"Thanks. Wolves don't have names, really, but I call him Gavin," she said, her hand falling to Gavin's head. Mostly to keep him from sticking his nose up Austin's towel.

"And it's the combination, I think, that's a little strange," Angua said as if she were letting him in on a secret. "You look as if you lost something. Is it your pants?"

[skybot_snd]

"Killing machines don't usually have names either," the T-1000 pointed out, scanning Gavin with his gaze before offering the wolf his hand for smell-based inspection, should he require it.

He'd been accused of strangeness before, and it had never fazed him. Especially since the antonym was 'normal', which was a disturbing human concept he generally attempted to stay far away from.

"No, I'm fully aware of the location of my pants," he offered with a reassuring smile. "I rarely misplace them. I just don't always see the point in putting them on."

He glanced down at the floor, considering the situation fully before deciding confession would be the best policy under the circumstances. "I lost my jaguar."