Anything Myr had beyond his startlingly useful framework for thinking about technology he had no direct experience of could be laid to Connor's credit; the android had been distressingly eager to explain what an artificial intelligence was. It hurts to think of, to know someone like him was tied so tightly to the demon he'd suffer awfully when it died.
That the SQUIP's response troubles Myr is obvious in his expression, starting from the instant it mentions Connor's culpability in keeping Rich from fleeing. Connor had said the same, but how much of that was truthful? How much of it might be a demon's charmed pawn taking the fall for his puppetmaster?
The elf's expression only darkens further as the SQUIP continues; he doesn't miss how differently it speaks of the other two men.
He doesn't want to empathize with it. He dearly doesn't, but Connor's words remain in his head. Even if it didn't have free will, how awful it must be to find oneself alone and slowly going mad.
How awful and yet, Maker, how fortuitous. If it could fail by its own standards (a flicker of faint hope in Myr's expression), it might be made to fail again. But whether or not he could pull that off...
He sighs, shifting to lean forward with knees on elbows, fingers laced together before his face. "Knowing what you do of him--why d'you believe your presence wasn't helping? And when--in all of this--did you try charming Connor?"
no subject
That the SQUIP's response troubles Myr is obvious in his expression, starting from the instant it mentions Connor's culpability in keeping Rich from fleeing. Connor had said the same, but how much of that was truthful? How much of it might be a demon's charmed pawn taking the fall for his puppetmaster?
The elf's expression only darkens further as the SQUIP continues; he doesn't miss how differently it speaks of the other two men.
He doesn't want to empathize with it. He dearly doesn't, but Connor's words remain in his head. Even if it didn't have free will, how awful it must be to find oneself alone and slowly going mad.
How awful and yet, Maker, how fortuitous. If it could fail by its own standards (a flicker of faint hope in Myr's expression), it might be made to fail again. But whether or not he could pull that off...
He sighs, shifting to lean forward with knees on elbows, fingers laced together before his face. "Knowing what you do of him--why d'you believe your presence wasn't helping? And when--in all of this--did you try charming Connor?"