There were shreds of Reginald in all of them despite her best efforts- you can't live under the thumb of a man like that no matter his intentions for so long without picking up a few traits. Five? Was vicious with his intellect, ambitious- and these things held him apart. Connecting is- can be difficult for both of them due to creation and circumstance and yet here they stand, trying in the morning's brief quietude.
Her thumb swipes idly along Five's skin, smile settling into something smaller, less practiced. Less picture perfect and all the more sincere for the asymmetrical cast, one corner tucked slightly higher than the other. Wry, almost, as Five's smirks tend to be. As much as she's taught them? Her children have taught her so much. Pieces of them fill the empty spaces in her programming, in her sense of self. "But you look-"
'you look so charming in the uniforms.'
It's on the tip of her tongue, something she has to bite back. The longer they're without Reginald the more obvious his vanity poured into her code to be spat up like gospel becomes. Grace's lips press thin as she breathes, following the advice she'd given Diego so many times. "But- they aren't finished yet."
It's a battle, every syllable. No matter how true it is, Reginald's hold on her throat, working her like a puppet hasn't given up entirely. She sags where she stands once it's out, huffing, a curl falling out of place- she doesn't bother smoothing it back. "Not all of them."
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Her thumb swipes idly along Five's skin, smile settling into something smaller, less practiced. Less picture perfect and all the more sincere for the asymmetrical cast, one corner tucked slightly higher than the other. Wry, almost, as Five's smirks tend to be. As much as she's taught them? Her children have taught her so much. Pieces of them fill the empty spaces in her programming, in her sense of self. "But you look-"
'you look so charming in the uniforms.'
It's on the tip of her tongue, something she has to bite back. The longer they're without Reginald the more obvious his vanity poured into her code to be spat up like gospel becomes. Grace's lips press thin as she breathes, following the advice she'd given Diego so many times. "But- they aren't finished yet."
It's a battle, every syllable. No matter how true it is, Reginald's hold on her throat, working her like a puppet hasn't given up entirely. She sags where she stands once it's out, huffing, a curl falling out of place- she doesn't bother smoothing it back. "Not all of them."