On Restful Nights and the Onset of Starvation [Active, Open]

[highheelsandhat]

Characters: Cybersix, Patchouli Knowledge, chaos
Setting: Lavender Bedroom
Time: Backlogged! Night 17, Hour 58
Summary: Having claimed a bedroom, Cybersix gets some well-deserved rest with Data 7 before meeting up with other residents.
Warnings: N/A. Potential doggy attack.

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[highheelsandhat]

The response to seeing Patchouli floating in mid-air in front of her was immediate: She jumped from shock, made a little noise of surprise, then immediately brought her leg back and settled into a battle-ready position, fists in front of her... before she realized the girl was addressing her. "You were..." she spoke aloud, staring at Patchouli with bewilderment, not only due to not expecting her there but also because she was floating. No wonder she hadn't heard the girl outside... but how was she accomplishing this? She could levitate?

"Hold up, Data 7," the woman called to the panther, who was growling low in the doorway as his glowing eyes appraised Patchouli for danger. She turned back as the woman explained what she was doing there. Among the other strange things about her, Cybersix found herself curious by the way she spoke - seemingly switching from addressing her to moving into a planned-out hypothetical situation in her head. "You'd ask... me through the door," she confirmed with a brief stare at Patchouli, before continuing her reply. "But thank you for the concern. Data 7 and I were resting in there - we'd blocked off the door so the dogs couldn't get in. Do you have a name?"

[chaotic_unmaker]

It had been a long time since chaos had deigned to prowl the halls, but Nina's bolstering words had done him a world of good. And so, with purpose back on his side, he was doing just that - prowling, looking for something to do, someone to help, or some manner of trouble to get into.

He knew at the outset that his power here was limited - more than that, it fluctuated wildly, almost on a daily basis. His best guess was that it went up when certain people entered the house, went down when they left, and hovered somewhere around a tenth of what it was supposed to be regardless. Still, a tenth of his normal power was a hell of a lot more than any human would ever wield directly, and a lot of them were getting on just fine; he just had to learn to manage it.

He was just entering the hallway when he saw the meeting between the two women and the panther. No outward hostilities, at least not yet; good. That meant they were probably all either guests or ghosts. He couldn't tell which, not from this distance, but it was a reasonable assumption that if they were the latter, they'd have done something by now.

So, he walked on down the hall, hands open at his side, presenting at least the illusion of being unarmed - he never was, but most people didn't know that. He cut an interesting figure, to say the least; white hair, olive skin, and a jumpsuit that looked like it belonged in a gaudy science fiction series. Even the loose, baggy white pants he wore over the coverall didn't do much to make him look normal.

Then again, considering who he was approaching, 'normal' was most definitely a relative concept.

He didn't say anything as he approached, radiating nothing more than quiet benevolence, his face bearing a somewhat sad smile and his carriage nonthreatening.