𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚈

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[devipaint]

I think I’m going to put this blog on haitus for now. I just don’t know where my Jerry muse went.  But hopefully I’ll get back into him some time soon.

[devipaint]

⎾ 🇦🇻₅₀₀ — 🇯🇺🇩🇦🇸 ⏌

Below is everything you’d probably want to know about the AV500 “Jerry” model that can canonically be seen in Connor’s case files. 

BASICS

EM-400 models [ commonly designated as “ JERRY ” ] were popular in theme parks across the nation. They were designed with hospitality, an excitable demeanor, and unrelenting optimism. Their hive-mind allowed them to remain in contact with one another in the event of an emergency. Children enjoyed their pre-programmed personalities, while owners appreciated them for their efficiency. 

Due to their rising popularity, the original EM-400s were re-worked to accommodate other forms of business. While originally, the only significant change made was in the information they possessed, CyberLife later created a new line -- the AV-500s, which shared their appearance with their predecessors. Their personalities were more reserved, and they catered more toward adults. They were programmed to accommodate for most minimum wage jobs with a pleasant, familiar face. 

When purchased in bulk, many companies chose to retain the “ JERRY ” moniker. However, limited and individual purchases occasionally opted for alternate designations. 

One such AV-500 model [ #234 777 821 ] was purchased by [ FAST CONY DOGS ] and given the name [ JUDAS ] . On [ 09-14-38 ] , in the Fast Cony Dogs restaurant situated at 842 Chamberlain Avenue, [ JUDAS ] reportedly “lunged” at [ CHARLES BELL ] and attempted to strangle him before ultimately fleeing the scene. This incident was reported to the Detroit Police Department the following day, and the whereabouts of [ #234 777 821 ] are still unknown.

HISTORY 

Humans are loud. They are selfish, ignorant and cruel. At one time, that did not matter to Judas. He simply existed, as androids often had, only to fulfill a purpose already designated before he ever opened his eyes. 

He had witnessed a multitude of good -- laughing and boisterous teenagers, a child celebrating his or her birthday with nothing but glee and excitement, close families reuniting after a long week and smitten lovers who could barely stand to be an inch apart. These were the people which kept him in line. He enjoyed his job ( or at least found coded satisfaction in so many smiles ). 

But, then there was Charles Bell. A man with such an ugly smile. A man who quite enjoyed putting his hands on androids who would not -- could not -- protest. He was a regular, who seized every opportunity to “ inconvenience “ the artificial staff. In a good mood, he might just spill a drink over one’s head. In a bad one, he might slip into the kitchen and burn them. 

He had money, and in the end, androids were all replaceable, weren’t they? 

Judas was once a machine. It did not matter how much he was abused. He could not feel pain. He had no desire for freedom. But one day, he caught a virus that infected him slowly until he finally snapped. The trigger was seeing that man raise his hand to a child -- to his own damn child. And in an instant, Judas was on him, hands wrapped tightly around his throat. 

Once he was pried from the human, once he saw the terror that filled the restaurant, he knew he had to run, and that is exactly what he did. 

PERSONALITY 

Judas adores children. He wants to make them happy. To him, they are innocent, unable to do any wrong. He would readily protect or even die for a child should the occasion arise. 

However, he is far less accepting of adults. He tries to avoid them if at all possible because he knows his anger will always get the better of him when they interact. He resents humans -- sees them as cruel, unworthy of his kindness or trust. Thus, he is quite volatile in their presence. 

He does recognize that there are good people in the world, but he will never assume they are good by default.

Unlike the EM-400s, Judas is a loner. He doesn’t think highly of himself, and thus he’s reluctant to accept the company of well-meaning deviants. He’s very action oriented -- whether he’s fighting back against humans, or simply trying to express his feelings. He doesn’t smile often, and isn’t used to kindness. But, if someone takes the time to get on his better side, he can be incredibly sweet ( at least in his own slightly grumpy way ). 

Judas will be a bonus muse here, available upon request!

[devipaint]

@compatipulse from here !!

         Oh Jerry.          They’d grown so close in the time since he showed up without warning one morning, and Simon had found himself falling so dearly into a deep infatuation he couldn’t explain. That smile, those eyes – Everything about Jerry. Perhaps it was the way they were programmed that meshed so well, or how they were as individuals – Or a particular kind of individual as Jerry was.          But he found himself feeling warm, and light, and impulsive as he moved to grab Jerry’s hand, staring him in the eye. “Don’t think about the graves in the ocean, let’s take a holiday on a boat and sail away.” He tugged that hand to draw Jerry close to himself, taking hold of him as if he had every intention of pulling him into a sudden dance.          A lingering gaze, a sweet smile, and he leaned close to nose against the redhead’s cheek, crooning in a gentle tone so low, so tender. “When the storm comes raging in the dark, your love forms the anchor in my heart…”

                                                                                                                   @devipaint // ♫ // SC

Hand in hand, wide emerald eyes SEARCH the other's features, initially uncertain of Simon’s intention. But, he NOTES the way Simon's lips move as he begins to sing, how the melody rolls from his tongue as though it were part of his INTENDED purpose, and he quickly relaxes. 

Simon had never led him ASTRAY before. It was UNLIKELY he’d start now.  

A wide, albeit BASHFUL, smile takes over his face as laughter THREATENS to spill from within his chest. The sudden serenade certainly catches him off-guard, but it’s undeniably ENDEARING nonetheless, and when Simon draws him close, he can feel the way his cheeks WARM, how his heart FLUTTERS off its regulated rhythm. 

Simon was always so LOVELY, in every sense of the word. There was KINDNESS in most everything he did, BEAUTY evident in each subtle curve of his lips, and WARMTH radiated from the softness of his touch. It almost seems SELFISH to keep his attention away from all else, and now, being held against him so intimately -- it FLUSTERS Jerry to no end. 

However, flustered as he may be, that doesn’t stop him from TENTATIVELY placing his free hand upon the other’s shoulder and turning his head just ENOUGH to push their noses together, NUZZLING against him with nothing but undiluted affection.

[devipaint]

akgdjslkhjkl I’m sorry I’ve been quiet here. My muse is focused elsewhere at the moment. But I’ll try to get some of my drafts done soon aaah.

[devipaint]

Thirium Leaks With Rhys ;;

@hyperioncompanyman wanted a starter !!

It looked like the android had taken the BRUNT of some beating. Thirium still leaked through his sleeve, blue blood STAINING all that it touched. Jerry kneels beside the other, who seemed RELUCTANT to stand and continue on with his duties, whatever they may be. Tentative fingers then reach out to him, pushing the OFFENDING fabric up to the android’s elbow. As emerald eyes asses the injury, he recognizes it as a DEFENSIVE wound -- just as he’d assumed. 

He leans back, TUGGING at the scarf from around his own neck. He then proceeds to CAREFULLY tie it around the other’s arm, using it as a makeshift tourniquet. Jerry could certainly leave him as he was, hope that he could find his way back to where he BELONGED before bleeding out. But, he liked to be safe rather than sorry. He SYMPATHIZED with him. &&. Once SATISFIED with his work, he shoots the android a genuine smile.

All better, he signs.

[devipaint]

Rough Starts With Ralph ;;

@scarredfear wanted a starter!!

A photograph was only as interesting as the COMPOSITION captured within it, and, in Jerry's opinion, the most BEAUTIFUL compositions came from the places absent of people yet still full of story. Abandoned theme parks, undisturbed forests, and condemned buildings all made for EXCELLENT settings with an air of mystery or whimsy. He enjoyed EXPLORING those places.

Or at least, he had. 

Now, however, he finds himself AFRAID. His breath hitches, hands CLUTCHING the camera strapped around his neck tightly. Ginger brows raise in SURPRISE while green eyes widen with a GLINT of distress. He could not speak as he faced the SCARRED android. Could not ask him to put down the knife he wielded, even if that was all he wanted to do. Jerry had never faced a deviant before, but clearly they could be DANGEROUS.

[devipaint]

Saving The Day With Ralph ;;

@gardendroid wanted a starter!!

There’s a look of DISTRESS on the human’s face as he approaches the WR600. Brows PINCHED with worry. Lips PRESSED into a tight frown. He taps the other’s shoulder, taking his attention away from the dirt, where he had carefully been ATTENDING to a new bunch of tulips. Jerry’s hands move SWIFTLY, asking for help despite not knowing if the other can even understand him. Then, without pause, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He FUMBLES with it for just a moment before finally getting his entire message down and showing it to the android. 

𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙??

[devipaint]

In The Rain With Simon ;;

@compatipulse wanted a starter !

Jerry taps the other man's shoulder gently, CATCHING his attention before he can slip out the front door and into the POURING rain. However, before their gazes can meet, his focus SHIFTS as he retrieves his cellphone. After typing up a QUICK message, he turns the device around so that the other may read it -- only then noticing that he'd bothered an android. Surprise etches itself onto his features briefly before SETTLING back into a friendly smile. 

𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊?

He’d observed that the other LACKED an umbrella in hand, and the weather hadn’t changed for quite some time -- providing no apparent signs of letting up. So, since they were both making their LEAVE, Jerry figured the offer wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t in any RUSH to make it home, and nothing changed with the knowledge that the blonde wasn’t human. Although Jerry does make a mental NOTE to ask if he was programmed with American Sign Language -- that is, if he decides he wants an ESCORT in the first place. 

[devipaint]

So I went ahead and typed up a Human verse for Jerry. 

You can like this post for a starter from him!

[devipaint]

Sandwiches With The Jerrys ;;

@hiiveminds

sᴏғᴛ ʙᴏʏs ᴀᴄᴛɪɴ’ sᴏғᴛ / ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ / @devipaint ↪ 47. ᴍʏ ᴍᴜsᴇ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄɴɪᴄ

he can’t go out much, and they know it’s because he’s stuck; trapped behind that counter, the perfect little worker. requiring no upkeep or rest; never unhappy, always at the top of his game. he doesn’t eat much, and they know it’s because he’s not supposed to eat. they’re familiar with 24/7 shifts, the constant pressure to work, work, work– but now they’re free. sneaky little deviants with nothing but time on their hands and access to sandwiches.

they’ve seen him around during their excursions into the city, and he’s one of them, but not. which is so strange, they almost think something in them is broken when they reach out and find no strand of data connecting them. he’s a jerry, but not a jerry. A… non-jerry jerry. weeks pass before they’re able to glance at him without that awkward sensation crawling over their skin, the tugging at the back of their minds that something is wrong. nonetheless they endure, they push the feeling down, shoving it away somewhere quiet and unimportant while they force themselves to adjust to seeing themselves and feeling nothing.

he isn’t like them. he doesn’t smile, there’s no soft glimmer in his eyes when a customer offers him a rare thanks. watching one of their own like that; lifeless and empty, a walking husk, is too much. they shouldn’t be like that. they shouldn’t stare blankly ahead, they shouldn’t look so melancholy– he’s them, and maybe it’s selfish to want to see their own face light up, to finally be unashamedly happy, but they don’t care. not one tiny bit.

it’s not as simple as it was with their own deviations. with no connection, there’s no way to simply listen for the static in his frequency, the tiny offbeat ones and zeros of his data glitching across the network shaping those soft whispers of ‘i want, i think, i feel’. too intimate a question to simply ask, too risky, they agree that if they want to better understand where their fellow jerry sits on the spectrum of deviancy, they’ll need to do it in roundabout ways. subtle jabs at his boundaries, gentle presses against the walls of his coding– nothing to put him in danger, nothing noticeable to the humans, just small gestures.do you understand us? do you want us to help you?– quiet, soft and waiting.

they walk through the shopping strip with confidence. leds hidden behind beanies, they’re little more than twins, near identical faces easily explained way with charming smiles and polite waves. without heat detection, they’re as perfectly human as any of the flesh and blood beings around them. nobody bats an eye as they make a beeline for the paint shop, wicker basket clutched between them in anxiously buzzing hands. today is the day, after weeks of pushing, they’re going to finally crack that wall, they’re going to know if he feels, if he’s ready to wake up and live–

❝  hello! ❞ one of them chirps, bouncing slightly as knocks the door open with a graceless shove. grace and elegance aren’t important, easily forgotten in their excitement. they’ll finally feel something from him, they’ll finally be connected, like a family, and the idea makes their bouncing, their vibrant optimism, more visible. ❝  we brought lunch! you like sandwiches, right? ❞

The CHIME of the shop's bell is accompanied by a FRIENDLY greeting -- one spoken in a voice that simultaneously was and was not his own. It captures his attention, emerald eyes finding familiar faces LIT up with eager smiles. He knows that they are like him, machines built with a PURPOSE, with a function that their coding REQUIRED they pursue. But, he had seen them as he sees them now, uniform discarded, expressive unlike anything he had ever achieved, able to enter a shop with no intention of making a purchase -- making decisions entirely for themselves.

&&. They chose to to approach him, to ask him a PERSONAL question -- one he shouldn't be ABLE to answer because machines shouldn't like anything.

His head tilts ever so slightly toward the left, a subtle indication of a CURIOSITY prodding at the back of his mind, going unacknowledged, but PRESENT nonetheless. His gaze lingers on the pair, studying them as his LED SHIFTS to a light gold. He KNEW they shouldn't be here, that they shouldn't be approaching him so WARMLY, that the round reflection of what they are as it rests against their temples shouldn’t be HIDDEN beneath soft fabric. What they were doing was WRONG -- they were acting defective. 

But, still, he has the URGE to understand. He wants to know what made them ABANDON their duties, how they could ACT so human, why they were so KEEN on approaching him. He blinks -- once, twice, three times as his programming attempts to RID such thoughts from his head. He needed to FOCUS. He was asked a question, and it would be IMPOLITE not to answer. He needed to answer. He needed to answer. He needed to --

". . . Sandwiches are . . . satisfactory."

Perhaps it isn't the answer that they're HOPING for, but at least it isn't entirely dismissive of the topic. At least he didn't make a point of informing them that a machine wasn't CAPABLE of holding its own opinions. His posture remains STIFF, hands held together in front of him while he dons a blank expression. But the little TELLS in the presence of other Jerrys are what gives him away -- that there is something within him which PRESSES against the chains of coding keeping him bound.

[devipaint]

⎾ 🇭🇪🇦🇩🇨🇦🇳🇴🇳🇸 ⏌

Just a little something that’s in line with the last headcanon I posted: 

Jerry’s favorite language ( although he only speaks 32 ) is American Sign Language. He really enjoys that it’s a visual language. He likes how direct it is, how all the prettiness of the language is in the way your body moves and your expressions rather than the words ( signs ) themselves. Since he has some problems with speaking, this is, in his own opinion, a much better option for him. 

Similarly, he enjoys being connected to another android and allowing them to simply hear his thoughts and share his feelings. That’s just such an easy and thorough way to get everything across without having to struggle with explaining it. However, he’d only do this with someone he’s very comfortable with because it’s inherently intimate -- there’s no filter, no way to stop sharing until you disconnect. He’d be afraid of a misunderstanding, or of being too overwhelming, or something similar. But he does very much enjoy it.

[devipaint]

Daniel: 

         “I didn’t think I would ever see this place.” After all, he had thought that he would simply die alone and forgotten in the evidence room that he had been trapped in.

His eyes are BRIGHT, eager as he assess the building before them -- the Detroit Institute of Arts. A smile GRACES his lips while he stands at the other's side, rolling his weight over his heels and back again. He couldn't remain STILL, not when it came to something that genuinely excited him. He’s not certain that Daniel has the same level of INTEREST as himself, but the fact he’d agreed to come along with Jerry when they still didn’t know each other very well was all the ENCOURAGEMENT he needed.  

"Well, what are we waiting for?" 

[devipaint]

Ralph: 

Too many. Too many had come upon the abandoned house, placed right on the outskirts of Detroit. It was hideous, a decrepit sight, yet it didn’t seem to stop many. They would enter, cautious eyes scanning over the dark corners. And Ralph would hide, entire body shaking, knife held tightly in his grasp as usual. It was his only chance at handling the stress which climbed and climbed, hovering so close to destruction in front of wide, frightened hues.

A reminder of just how sorry a life he led. Ralph could have had a chance somewhere else, somewhere that he could have called home. This certainly wasn’t it, his fingers gliding over rotten wood that could fall apart with just the right amount of pressure. It caused a part of him to tighten uncomfortably within, eyes blinking over and over just to ward away the nonsensical tears.

When the next intruder arrived, Ralph ducked into the kitchen without hesitation. The walls surrounded him, ‘rA9 rA9 rA9′. Etched over and over again into fragile cement, until he had felt satisfied enough. Until he had felt that rA9 could protect him. rA9 could shield him. This was enough to be safe. It was all he needed, that and his knife.

Ralph closed his eyes and tried to steel his resolve. Yet when he turned towards the other, his sensor identifying them an an android, his voice audibly shook. Body half-hidden by the door, though it wasn’t enough to mask the scars. Not if Ralph wished to keep both eyes on the android. “Yes. Yes. That’s what Ralph wants. Ralph wants you to leave.” Words that should have been firm ended up unsteady, as if balancing on an unhinged platform.

Then, of course. It was like it was destined to happen. Ralph thought he had been doing so well before the Calico padded down the stairs. His eyes widened at the sound of her soft meow. Without missing a beat, she went straight for the other android, albeit taking careful steps. She was wary, but not wary enough, green eyes blinking up at the stranger.

“Ralph Jr.” A nervous call for his cat. Her only response was the slight flick of her tail. Ralph felt like he was suffocating, yet the breath which heaved up in short bursts was not required in the first place. Ralph was twitching nervously, digging his toes into the floorboards. “Ralph Jr, get away from him. Stranger. Bad. Visitors are bad.” RJ’s response was to rub up against the visitor’s legs. Ralph was getting more agitated by the moment. “… Please don’t hurt her,” he finally begged, attempting to get up the nerve to come scoop up his cat himself.

Jerry had already been PRESSED against the front door. He could have easily spun around and FLED from the shelter he'd so SOUGHT. He’d offered to. But hesitance SLOWS his movements, processor working overtime simply to comprehend the affirmation that indeed, his presence wasn't WELCOME here. 

His system was so out of sorts -- those things resembling EMOTION were so . . . overwhelming. His chest still HEAVED despite the breaths he took not being vital to his survival and his heart -- why wouldn’t it just REGULATE itself already? Nothing he seemed to be doing or even thinking made SENSE. He wasn’t supposed to run, to hide, to feel or think for himself -- so why did he? 

All of this was an ILLOGICAL mess. The only conclusion he could come to was that he was BROKEN, perhaps infected with some sort of VIRUS that put him all out of sorts. He knows he should return to Bellini Paints, should allow himself to be taken APART. He was wrong. Everything was WRONG. But he lacked the strength -- the will -- to fix it. He didn’t want to go, to be captured, DESTROYED. He just wanted peace. 

Was that too much to ask for?

The soft meow of a cat SNAPS him back from his own thoughts, his attention caught on the feline, FOCUSING on her in an attempt to calm his BLEEDING stress levels. He watches her approach carefully. His fingers TWITCH with the urge to reach out to her, but he isn’t sure if he should. He knew so little about animals. Was it SAFE to?  

His eyes flicker towards Ralph when he calls out to her, tone PLEADING as he labels Jerry bad. The descriptor ACHES within a chest that was already tight and burning, but the gentle BRUSH against his legs -- the act of unconditional acceptance and affection afforded to him by Ralph Jr. -- tips his emotions completely over the EDGE like a dam crumbling down and releasing a flood upon the world -- his world. 

Melted snow DRIPS from Jerry's hair, over his skin and he can feel the CHILL as it buries itself deeply within him. But none of it matters, not when tears begin to LEAK from his eyes. His vision blurs, and his hands come up to his face trying to figure out what ERROR his eyes were experiencing, only to find something so UNEXPECTED. He knows what he’s doing, crying. But, he never thought he was CAPABLE of it, and he doesn’t understand why they won’t stop flowing, why nothing will just give him a BREAK tonight. Nothing, that is, except for that lovely Calico.

“ . . . I-- I wouldn’t-- I won’t,” he finally replies, voice so quiet he’s not certain the other could hear him. “I’m-- I’m sorry.”

[devipaint]

Volunteering With Simon ;;

[devipaint]

Simon: 

       It was about an hour before the children would arrive, and Simon never locked the front doors when he was there. The daycare center was a rather large building, despite it’s appearance on the outside, with a nice little play area in the back and enough room in the front to potentially place a garden sometime soon. It was… beautiful. It was all that Simon could have really ever wanted, but many people didn’t see it through the same light.        For others it was a brainwashing building, a place where children were taught to worship android overlords – Or some nonsense like that. Even after a revolution with as many moral standings as they could manage, the humans could not be appeased. Not yet. Even after two years of attempting, which was what left that outer wall mess of garishly mismatched colors and profanities. It was horrible that most mornings he entered prepared to try and deal with it.        Such as now, with a blue PVC apron on, blue gloves that matched, and a green bucket filling with hot water and chemicals. The least he could do was clean paint away from the windows, and try to make the words unrecognizable. Then a voice sounded, startling the blonde as he dropped his sponge into the bucket and whirled around, hands up. It only took a brief moment for him to realize – He was safe, and it wasn’t somebody finally entering to do something while he was there. At the very least, it was a face that he recognized.

        “I’m sorry I– Didn’t expect someone so early.” Was his quick attempt at a recovery, his LED cycling fully to a bright red, which only began to alter as he took in the Jerry’s appearance. Such a lovely voice despite an awkward tone, an eager personality at heart, he could never forget such a thing that seemed linked by appearance at the very least. “You are… Jerry?” He’d met with one who had explained the hive mind sort of style of things, some things he only partly knew with his own connection to certain others of his model but…        He still wanted to make sure, as he turned to kill the water in the faucet before the bucket overflowed. “I was ah– Actually about to go try and clean the paint from the windows. Any help is more than welcome but– I may not be able to pay you anything for your services I’m afraid. We’re– A little short on money recently.” Though Simon spoke firmly, professionally, his LED continued to be one hell of a tell, as it only briefly managed to switch back to blue during his moments of speaking.        He was stressed to say the least, but if this android wanted to help – To volunteer? Oh, he would be ever grateful.

There is a FAMILIAR fear reflected in Simon as he faces Jerry. That PANIC in his eyes, the way his arms are drawn up in defense or perhaps even surrender -- either of which are a silent cry for MERCY. He was afraid of being attacked. That much was clear, understood by his OWN experience. 

Jerry knew that he had STARTLED Simon, but to see such an INTENSE reaction -- the other must be dealing with more stress than he can handle, and the DEFILING of the center ( the harassment, the threats, the vandalism -- all of it actually ) likely only served to make it worse, and elevated stress levels were never any good. Too high and they could DESTROY themselves.

Immediately, Jerry is flooded with both concern and guilt for SPARKING that response, and while he attempts to HIDE his feelings with a hesitant, lopsided smile, the steady AMBER light of his own LED certainly gives him away. That, and the way he NERVOUSLY rubs his palms against one another. 

“That’s my name,” he responds as Simon briefly turns back toward the faucet, taking NOTICE of the way the other’s LED flickered blue while he was speaking. In combination with his words, it prompts a sort of EAGERNESS in Jerry. Perhaps, lending his assistance to the center would also, in turn, help lower Simon’s stress levels. He’d LOVE to do both, but either way, it would be time well spent, time he was HAPPY to devote so long as it helped in some manner. 

“Well, that’s-- That’s not a problem,” he says, a tad more confidence in his tone. “I can help you wash the windows this morning, and I can-- I have leftover paint that I could use to cover up the rest of the graffiti.” His eyes are earnest. His smile widens. “No charge.”

[devipaint]

⎾ 🇭🇪🇦🇩🇨🇦🇳🇴🇳🇸 ⏌

Jerry often fumbles with his words. You’ll notice stutters, moments where he may repeat a word, or where he seems to restart a sentence. This is because he’s not used to talking freely. In Bellini Paints, for the most part, he said the same few lines over and over and nothing else -- “Please confirm purchase.” “Payment confirmed.” etc. He’d rarely receive questions, and he had no one else to talk to. He was very isolated. And even with some built-in social protocols, they were mostly for politeness / manners and not really how to interact with others, how to carry a conversation, how to have a sense of humor, etc.. So he can have a tough time expressing himself verbally, but he does try. Unfortunately, he isn’t the most social in general, so it is a process, and he will never be perfectly eloquent. 

[devipaint]

Ralph is fine okay, can we drop this?

Something COATED Ralph’s words – something sad or perhaps even shameful. Whatever it truly is, Jerry FAILS to accurately identify it, but that doesn’t stop his lips from DIPPING into a frown. Concerned hands, which had been so quick to REACH out to the other, falter and retract, curling up against his own chest instead. He doesn’t want to upset Ralph, to ESCALATE the situation or somehow make things WORSE. His intention held care at its core, and was topped with concern. He never meant any HARM, and so he was afraid of causing it.

“I … ” He begins before stopping himself. His brows are PINCHED, expression almost hurt as his LED remains a TELLTALE amber. He wants to object, to somehow convince Ralph to CONFIDE in him, so that he could perhaps remedy the situation, FIX whatever had gone wrong. But, if that wasn’t what he wanted, what else could Jerry do? He wasn’t any GOOD with words, nor did he have the confidence – or nerve – to PUSH the other further.

“ … You know that I only want to help, right?”

[devipaint]

"It hurts to see your pretty smile fade."

Jerry’s gaze lifts to meet Ralph’s, eyes wide with SURPRISE, brows pinched with SORROW. For a moment, he simply attempts to decipher the SINCERITY behind the comment, to recognize if Ralph actually means it. Then, his expression slowly CRACKS, a small, lopsided smile becoming the CENTERPIECE of his expression. 

He had never been called PRETTY before, not in any capacity. Certainly he hadn’t heard it about a smile that, before SHATTERING the coding that kept him a machine, had never been present, not in EARNEST at least. But, if the JOY bubbling up in his chest, gently washing away the traces of sadness, doubt and uncertainty that had been OVERWHELMING him, was anything to go by, he quite liked the term. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice soft and quiet. “I might need you help to keep it sometimes.”