[ Yamada radiates a sense of confidence as he takes in the scene, taking in the scene for a thoughtful second, scratching his stubble with armoured fingers- at least it looks like armour. He's still mostly machine at the moment, his face the only part made of flesh. Even then, that's just skin deep. Just like the confidence, as he rapidly lets his thoughts race through all the options he has, looking cool as a cucumber thanks to freezing his face's ability to express.
Fake it until you make it works very well when you can skip to the make it part. ]
Wouldn't have come if I didn't. [ With a click-clank-whirr, his shape changes yet again. The rockets on his feet pop into wheels, and his wings become spoilers. A rocket flight would be rough on a little pup, after all. His chest opens, upwards like the trunk of a car, revealing a space just right to put Rocky. Tiny robot arms inside hold a rubber tourniquet and gauze. ] I can do some patching up on the way, I'm a smooth ride.
[ He's hardly an expert, but he figures first-aid that'd work for a person would work for a dog. Hoping, really, but he puts effort into looking like he knows what he's doing. ]
[He looks so stoic. It's the kind of expression that takes Ambrosia aback, being used to seeing him so jolly and playful. Nothing like their usual silly banter; this is serious business. From her worried expression, her eyes flit back and forth between the bloody bundle in her arms and the flashy armor that Yamada is wearing.
And okay, reeling in her surprise is hard, just enough for her eyes to widen and gasp. That kind of technology would fit right in her home, where advancement in cybernetics is slow yet noticeable.
Her idle thoughts screech to a halt at the pitiful whine from the puppy. Thankfully just in time, too; it's almost drowned out by the sounds of clicks and whirrs and clanks from her companion. With hurried steps, she carefully places Rocky inside the compartment, making sure his nose and feet don't accidentally bump into the corners and smear too much blood.]
Maybe I should take off the blanket so you can inspect him better.
[Probably for the best. Anything to make the process less hectic, anything to keep her tone as even as possible with her brows knitting in concentration. Then she hears another whine:]
Shhh... it's okay. Please don't be afraid, you poor thing.
[And here is Ambrosia with one hand patting the back of Rocky's head, using gentle tones as though she's talking to a scared child.]
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@ bitterambrosia
[ Yamada radiates a sense of confidence as he takes in the scene, taking in the scene for a thoughtful second, scratching his stubble with armoured fingers- at least it looks like armour. He's still mostly machine at the moment, his face the only part made of flesh. Even then, that's just skin deep. Just like the confidence, as he rapidly lets his thoughts race through all the options he has, looking cool as a cucumber thanks to freezing his face's ability to express.
Fake it until you make it works very well when you can skip to the make it part. ]
Wouldn't have come if I didn't. [ With a click-clank-whirr, his shape changes yet again. The rockets on his feet pop into wheels, and his wings become spoilers. A rocket flight would be rough on a little pup, after all. His chest opens, upwards like the trunk of a car, revealing a space just right to put Rocky. Tiny robot arms inside hold a rubber tourniquet and gauze. ] I can do some patching up on the way, I'm a smooth ride.
[ He's hardly an expert, but he figures first-aid that'd work for a person would work for a dog. Hoping, really, but he puts effort into looking like he knows what he's doing. ]
no subject
And okay, reeling in her surprise is hard, just enough for her eyes to widen and gasp. That kind of technology would fit right in her home, where advancement in cybernetics is slow yet noticeable.
Her idle thoughts screech to a halt at the pitiful whine from the puppy. Thankfully just in time, too; it's almost drowned out by the sounds of clicks and whirrs and clanks from her companion. With hurried steps, she carefully places Rocky inside the compartment, making sure his nose and feet don't accidentally bump into the corners and smear too much blood.]
Maybe I should take off the blanket so you can inspect him better.
[Probably for the best. Anything to make the process less hectic, anything to keep her tone as even as possible with her brows knitting in concentration. Then she hears another whine:]
Shhh... it's okay. Please don't be afraid, you poor thing.
[And here is Ambrosia with one hand patting the back of Rocky's head, using gentle tones as though she's talking to a scared child.]