V Cake
Had she offended him with that last remark ? She’d
intended it as a joke, for there was not a cruel bone
in her body. She was as kind as they came, and a
little down on her luck, for wont of a better saying,
which was why she was at Aperture’s beck and
call. Honestly, she had just been trying to humour
him as they processed the next testing room for
use.
She almost wanted to apologise, really.
That feeling very nearly evaporated with the passing
explanation. She loathed the machine strapped to
her arm, clamping the limb like a vice. Every night
when it was removed, she knew well enough the
deep ridges of cuts imprinted in her skin. They
hurt to touch; it hurt even more to put the device
back on.
❝Merci, monsieur Blanc.❞
The albino huffed a higher-pitched sigh, one that
undoubtedly communicated that she favoured
her resignation over annoyance. Shit happens,
as it goes.
Again, silent and immediate resignation, but this
time, he wasn’t going to think about that. This was
how subjects were meant to be anyway. No ques-
tions, no complaints, no nothing.
…Although maybe that “thank you” was a bit much.
What did she have to be grateful for anyway? Why
was she thanking him–and in her own language too,
which he supposed said a lot–for telling her that she
was to be using the thing strapped to her arm?
Oh, and speaking of which, he’d never really asked
her how it felt, did he? He probably had, first time a-
round. But come to think of it again, he… hadn’t exact-
ly checked back anymore, had he?
Had she offended him with that last remark ? She’d
intended it as a joke, for there was not a cruel bone
in her body. She was as kind as they came, and a
little down on her luck, for wont of a better saying,
which was why she was at Aperture’s beck and
call. Honestly, she had just been trying to humour
him as they processed the next testing room for
use.
She almost wanted to apologise, really.
That feeling very nearly evaporated with the passing
explanation. She loathed the machine strapped to
her arm, clamping the limb like a vice. Every night
when it was removed, she knew well enough the
deep ridges of cuts imprinted in her skin. They
hurt to touch; it hurt even more to put the device
back on.
❝Merci, monsieur Blanc.❞
The albino huffed a higher-pitched sigh, one that
undoubtedly communicated that she favoured
her resignation over annoyance. Shit happens,
as it goes.
Again, silent and immediate resignation, but this
time, he wasn’t going to think about that. This was
how subjects were meant to be anyway. No ques-
tions, no complaints, no nothing.
…Although maybe that “thank you” was a bit much.
What did she have to be grateful for anyway? Why
was she thanking him–and in her own language too,
which he supposed said a lot–for telling her that she
was to be using the thing strapped to her arm?
Oh, and speaking of which, he’d never really asked
her how it felt, did he? He probably had, first time a-
round. But come to think of it again, he… hadn’t exact-
ly checked back anymore, had he?
Had she offended him with that last remark ? She’d
intended it as a joke, for there was not a cruel bone
in her body. She was as kind as they came, and a
little down on her luck, for wont of a better saying,
which was why she was at Aperture’s beck and
call. Honestly, she had just been trying to humour
him as they processed the next testing room for
use.
She almost wanted to apologise, really.
That feeling very nearly evaporated with the passing
explanation. She loathed the machine strapped to
her arm, clamping the limb like a vice. Every night
when it was removed, she knew well enough the
deep ridges of cuts imprinted in her skin. They
hurt to touch; it hurt even more to put the device
back on.
❝Merci, monsieur Blanc.❞
The albino huffed a higher-pitched sigh, one that
undoubtedly communicated that she favoured
her resignation over annoyance. Shit happens,
as it goes.
Again, silent and immediate resignation, but this
time, he wasn’t going to think about that. This was
how subjects were meant to be anyway. No ques-
tions, no complaints, no nothing.
…Although maybe that “thank you” was a bit much.
What did she have to be grateful for anyway? Why
was she thanking him–and in her own language too,
which he supposed said a lot–for telling her that she
was to be using the thing strapped to her arm?
Oh, and speaking of which, he’d never really asked
her how it felt, did he? He probably had, first time a-
round. But come to think of it again, he… hadn’t exact-
ly checked back anymore, had he?
