Booker was losing her as she spoke more about the bird. It started with Songbird's make and programming--after that he was lost. He thought they all pretty much knew where the birds (and bees) came from, but this girl was speaking like she came from another world. Overwriting his programming-- Fantasies of overwriting nature? Just what the hell kind of tower did she really come from!
"Uhhh.." His intellectual response was soon hushed with a few more words from her. By the end of it Booker was sure he wasn't blinking in unison. She had some extraordinary ideas, more than he'd ever heard a woman speak before in such a short of time knowing one! Not to say he didn't know women who had their own ideas such as promoting prohibition, bettering the world with unparalleled education, working in masculated fields. To each their own really, but the audacity to reprogram a song bird?
That was a whole higher level of ideals that he wasn't sure was even worth the effort in thinking about. But, alas, she had deviated from the conversation about how to remake the egg that the bird hatches from. In that, again, he was glad to be led in a direction -- different as he was accustomed to.
"Well.." Booker wasn't too much for words and even less when he wasn't quite sure what to say. He could relate her feelings to oppressed women he's had the pleasure, or grievance, to listen to. The world wasn't as gentle as a woman was, it was hard, edgy, cruel, and indifferent if nothing else. Least he thought so anyway. "You .. sure can." He blinked away awkwardly.
no subject
"Uhhh.." His intellectual response was soon hushed with a few more words from her. By the end of it Booker was sure he wasn't blinking in unison. She had some extraordinary ideas, more than he'd ever heard a woman speak before in such a short of time knowing one! Not to say he didn't know women who had their own ideas such as promoting prohibition, bettering the world with unparalleled education, working in masculated fields. To each their own really, but the audacity to reprogram a song bird?
That was a whole higher level of ideals that he wasn't sure was even worth the effort in thinking about. But, alas, she had deviated from the conversation about how to remake the egg that the bird hatches from. In that, again, he was glad to be led in a direction -- different as he was accustomed to.
"Well.." Booker wasn't too much for words and even less when he wasn't quite sure what to say. He could relate her feelings to oppressed women he's had the pleasure, or grievance, to listen to. The world wasn't as gentle as a woman was, it was hard, edgy, cruel, and indifferent if nothing else. Least he thought so anyway. "You .. sure can." He blinked away awkwardly.
Hooch.