Dream of Electric Sheep [Anz]

Mor sprang back to his feet at the thought of creation. Splicing and addition was his specialty, and perhaps modification, but to create from scratch - it was something that eluded him even back at Duskmantle, or at the Vorel. He worked on templates. All he could do was to change what had been built prior, and now standing before him was someone capable of actually making things. Disregarding how much of a rap sheet was waiting for him now, he leaned in closer to the lady again.

"Building. Intriguing. May I observe? Process is of great scientific interest. Have experience in organomagical splicing, not inorganic creation. Could aid with body maintenance or solve citrus allergies." He peeked even closer into the bag of parts, and the fact that they were indeed inorganic roused his curiosity even more.

His hands made motions to pick up parts for further examination, but he halted them. Another survey told her the woman was most likely not enjoying interaction, and pushing it even further would not have helped his chances of observing.

Carefully, he drew back. What was it that could help him convey his lack of ill intent? For a while he racked his memory, and then remembered something that he was shown once on something called television.

Slowly he raised all four arms with the palms out, inadvertently raising his robe and exposing a bit of his form from the waist down. His spine was straightened out, and his legs were tense, awaiting a reaction. "Am only asking out of curiosity. No harmful intent."

Mor simply nodded, having come to the realization that everything he said or did made this person want to abandon him. It did cross his mind that his appearance may have had a hand in that though, and he hid himself back within his robes, not wanting to make anything more difficult than it had to be.

He followed behind her with a bowed head, submissive and almost sad, hiding his excitement well. Underneath his clothes his hands skittered around like hyperactive, drug-addled spiders, scribbling and scribbling away, writing of everything at all that caught his attention.

Their path had them pass in front of a shoddy country bar, blaring away country music to drunken cowboy wannabes and people who couldn't quite afford other places. The twanging of guitar strings and banjos reached his ears and irritated the ever-loving hell out of them, enough to make him break his silence.

"That sound... Offends the ears. Customary in this land?" he groaned. The sounds he could faintly hear earlier from a nearby club were far better, with a clean rhythm, distinct and without human error. There were many things to hear, now that his focus was on the environment and not on the lady he was with. There wasn't much noise, but the ones he could hear were unfamiliar and disconcerting. There wasn't anything he was used to listening to - where he was from, the only constant sound was the bubbling of liquids, the sound of flames, and the fizzling of mana.

"Earlier sounds less offensive. Had pattern. Steady pattern. Familiar but varied. Almost scientific."