[Audio]

[cantwalkwithoutit]

A survey question of sorts. Say you don't get on well with a friend's other friends.

[ No this isn't about anyone in particular, just take his general meaning. ]

How do you navigate that without cutting a friend off from yourself or anyone else?

[ Video ]

[stupidmeatbags]

[ The video feed clearly comes on by accident, as the owner is in mid-sentence as it appears on the network. HK-47’s staring down at Revan as best he could, and the annoyance was easy to hear in his voice just then. ]

--forgotten how to use a hydrospanner in three hundred years?

[ ...doesn’t help that there’s a bit of a glitch to his voice. ]

And it looks you have nearly the same amount of wear and tear in here… Wait… Do a diagnostic.

[ In spite of HK’s criticism, Revan appears quite comfortable with the pair of instruments in his hand, tools that look quite alien to the casual observer. His hair is tied up in an uncharacteristic ponytail to keep his hair out of his face as he frowns at something just below the camera angle. ]

I’m detecting a power surge in your sensory net.

[ HK’s voice is terse when he responds, despite the occasional jump in his voice. ]

Observation: Perhaps it’s simply reacting to the fact that you do not know what you’re doing.

[ He’s not being very forgiving here, and it was hard to blame him. Revan’s issues with memory were certainly a thing, and they seemed to be worse than usual… at least in the droid’s opinion, which was all that really mattered. ]

Oh come on. Who knows how you tick better than I do? It’s not my fault someone’s put your insides through a blender then tried to slap them together again. But I’m serious HK, it looks like you’re photoreceptors are being routed through… some kind of… beacon.

[ He looks up from his work, detaching the sensor probe currently embedded in HK’s chest and looking up directly into the feed --His frown shifting from one of curiosity to alarm. ]

...Why is your communicator in your head?

Mockery: Why master, I have no idea! Perhaps to a meatbag that has no idea what they’re doing, a ‘head’ is the most logical place to insert a communicative device.

[ Revan slaps a hand across his face, drawing a streak of grease across his nose. ]

By the Force, it’s an epidemic…

[So it’s become one of THOSE posts. ]

You’re broadcasting to the net, HK.

[ Revan raises his ‘hydrospanner’ and taps on the screen, HK’s eyes, for good measure. It was a shame the video was from HK’s point of view; the look on his face was rather priceless at the moment. The faint buzz of a sigh escaped from the droid. ]

Query: Perhaps it would be more prudent to use this time to ask for assistance from others? After all, I’m sure you can only remember so much, Master.

[ It was amazing how he could be supportive and insulting all in one sentence. ]

Yes, now that we look like total fools, let’s beg the community to save us.

[ Revan smiles up at the screen, past HK and to the people watching. ]

Hello everyone, my friend here has… had some work done over the years. Layers upon layers of patchwork repairs, reroutes and improvisation. Some of it I don’t even know what for. Like this? [ He reaches in and tugs out some kind of bundle of circuitry that looks oddly like a heart made of wires and chips. ] Looks like some kind of autonomous repair unit? But it’s currently defunct. And it looks like at least a dozen of his core functions have been routed through it.

Despite being the one who built him, I’m sort of at a loss. We’re looking for anybody with an understanding of robotics, or perhaps abilities related to technology that can assist us.

[ooc; Responses can come from either HK or Revan, or both! ]

001. video.

[dashing]

Good morrow.

( She pauses, and frowns. Not a level 10 frown, or even a level 8 frown. It's more just Herian's default level of frown, which is about a 4.5. Herian exhales a slightly displeased breath, and turns her device to focus on three men. All are bound, two are conscious, one is not. They are on the sand, but at least she's done them the service of setting them in the shade. When she speaks her voice is quiet and steady, but perfectly clear. )

Where to should I deliver these miscreants? They thought to relieve a jeweller of her crafts. By good fortune I was present to give chase - they were not quite so easy with themselves, when they realised their clumsiness. Cowards rarely find revels when their ill-deeds are granted witness by any but those vulnerable.

( The camera comes back to face herself, and she holds her head up. She is dressed in chainmail and dark robes, faded to a slate grey by sun and travel. )

One may require aid from an apothecary. I struck him but lightly - still, he swooned readily. I fear he was crafted with some delicateness, ill-suited to his chosen activities for this day. If there is a proper place where they might be left, I would be glad to know of it.

( For just the briefest moment there is a flicker of what might, maybe, be amusement at the corner of her mouth - but maybe not. ) My knowledge of this realm is limited, and as yet I've observed no stockades. Singular, that.

( Ah. She pauses, about to turn off the feed, and course corrects. ) Forgive me my abruptness. I am Ser Herian Amsel. I thank you in advance for your guidance.

(video)

[lightinside]

[When the feed clicks on it shows Laurel holding a small flyer in her hand. She holds it up to the camera for everyone to see. It reads as follows in green cursive with a light yellow background:]

Put your Petal to the Metal with our incredible offers!

25% Off All Floral Arrangements!
Buy One Get One Free on Planters!
2 For 1 Special on Daffodils!

...And so much more!


[Laurel moves the flyer away from the camera and offers everyone a smile.]

Sooo my boss asked me to make these flyers. I like the font and the colour of it, but I'm not sure about the background. Doing something like this is not my forte; in fact, the last time I made flyers it was for my prom back in highschool.

[Heh.]

Any constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated by both me and my boss. Thanks!

[She leans forward, intending to switch the feed off, but stops.]

I did mention this a while back, so I figured I should say it again for those who may have missed it the first time.

Back home, I'm a lawyer. When I first started out I worked in a legal clinic to help those who could not afford big city law firms. I want to offer legal counsel here, on a one to one basis. I may also help businesses, but for now my goal is to help individuals.

My name is Laurel Lance. Feel free to contact me here or here.

Thanks again.

[And the feed ends there.]

video!

[hellosirs]

[ Angus has the communicator set to video, but he hasn't realized it yet. Anyone watching this transmission will get a blurry close-up of his chin and bowtie as he fiddles with the weird little device, muttering to himself under his breath. ]

It's like a little scrying crystal... or like if a scrying crystal had a baby with a Stone of Farspeech. Huh.

Oh! It's on, I didn't-- Uh... Hello sirs and/or ma'ams!

[ He holds the communicator out at arm's length, straightens his bowtie and adjusts the collar of his sweatervest - yes, sweatervest, he's dressed like a tiny, old-fashioned nerd - and nods politely at the camera. Gotta be polite! ]

My name is Angus McDonald, and I am the World's Greatest Detective. Um... at least, I am where I'm from. I don't want to be presumptuous and assume that I'm the best one in the entire planar system, that'd be silly, but I'm the best one in my world. And I'm not being braggy, that would be rude, I'm just stating a fact.

Anyway, uh... it's nice to meet everyone, I guess I might be here for a little while. Has anybody heard of 'Haphazardous Home's Nellie Dunn's Detective Novels'? They want me to work there as an intern, and I like mystery novels, but I'd rather help solve real mysteries than help someone write stories about them.

[ How do you sign off on these things? Angus stares at the communicator for a few seconds, uncertain, and then gives a little wave. The arm that he's waving with has a large metal bracer on it that almost reaches his elbow. ]

... Thank you, goodbye!