[ Waking up is not as much of a birth as it is rising from a sleep - of course, this is his first conscious moment ever, but he's been programmed with history and knowledge for the past - whatever, billion years. It's not being born, because in many ways, he feels like he's been alive for ages - but he still takes a good minute to boot up, sparks flickering behind closed, artificial eyelids. Energy, electricity beating through what would be veins if he were human.
From there, the first few seconds of blinking are spent with deliberate analysis - grids, circles, lists, and facts piling up in Thomas' mind, giving him the information of everything around him, down to the fiber make up of the floor he's standing on. He realizes he's awaken before he was meant to - which should have him signalling for alarms, looking for someone to fix this wrong, but something stops him.
The man before him is aesthetically beautiful - that's the only way he can determine that he's attracted to this man, as things are, and can be, attracted to what they find appealing. Thomas looks at Minho, quickly deciding the symmetry of his face, the peek of muscles pressed against his shirt, the color of his eyes - those are all things that would be decidedly beautiful. So it's fair to say that, he has the evidence to back it up. Still, though. Being beautiful isn't enough to merit breaking the rules - something is still stopping Thomas, but he's not sure what.
Something inside him tells him that you're meant to pledge loyalty to whoever awakens you - a way to insure a hardworking android, dedicated to the job. But, as John Locke or anyone else might tell you, reading it and experiencing it are two entirely different concepts. Thomas looks over at him with wide eyes, mouth held slightly agape - and tilting his head, confused. ]
[ Minho is, without a doubt, screwed. There's no emergency off button when it comes to booting up androids, and anything he could do would permanently damage it. So he just tries to focus on figuring out what this thing's-- this guy's-- directive is. Something involving the killzone-- which, what?-- and the Flare and a whole slew of things that he has no time to actually read through, despite his earnest curiosity and the almost need to.
No, of course he has no time, because the shucking droid is opening his eyes and looking at him. He purses his lips a little as he regards the life-like being in return, surprised that he hasn't automatically sounded the alarm. It's not his job to activate these things, and it's not his job to even contemplate reprogramming.
It's sort of funny, as they take one another in. There are plenty of very, very human appearing models out there, but this one practically takes the cake. And for a moment, all he can do is take in those big, brown eyes. They're enormous and bright, and he's sufficiently distracted from the "oh, klunk" that was a litany in his head.
This droid is, through and through, a work of art. In engineering, programming-- although he'd gone and shucked that up, hadn't he-- and appearance. And he's being spoken to now, which reminds him of the little problem at hand. ]
... yeah that. That happened way ahead of schedule.
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BITE ME
From there, the first few seconds of blinking are spent with deliberate analysis - grids, circles, lists, and facts piling up in Thomas' mind, giving him the information of everything around him, down to the fiber make up of the floor he's standing on. He realizes he's awaken before he was meant to - which should have him signalling for alarms, looking for someone to fix this wrong, but something stops him.
The man before him is aesthetically beautiful - that's the only way he can determine that he's attracted to this man, as things are, and can be, attracted to what they find appealing. Thomas looks at Minho, quickly deciding the symmetry of his face, the peek of muscles pressed against his shirt, the color of his eyes - those are all things that would be decidedly beautiful. So it's fair to say that, he has the evidence to back it up. Still, though. Being beautiful isn't enough to merit breaking the rules - something is still stopping Thomas, but he's not sure what.
Something inside him tells him that you're meant to pledge loyalty to whoever awakens you - a way to insure a hardworking android, dedicated to the job. But, as John Locke or anyone else might tell you, reading it and experiencing it are two entirely different concepts. Thomas looks over at him with wide eyes, mouth held slightly agape - and tilting his head, confused. ]
You woke me up.
kisses cheeks instead
No, of course he has no time, because the shucking droid is opening his eyes and looking at him. He purses his lips a little as he regards the life-like being in return, surprised that he hasn't automatically sounded the alarm. It's not his job to activate these things, and it's not his job to even contemplate reprogramming.
It's sort of funny, as they take one another in. There are plenty of very, very human appearing models out there, but this one practically takes the cake. And for a moment, all he can do is take in those big, brown eyes. They're enormous and bright, and he's sufficiently distracted from the "oh, klunk" that was a litany in his head.
This droid is, through and through, a work of art. In engineering, programming-- although he'd gone and shucked that up, hadn't he-- and appearance. And he's being spoken to now, which reminds him of the little problem at hand. ]
... yeah that. That happened way ahead of schedule.