Fingers wove through themselves, making tangles against one-another before Bishop straightened them out again. The cat's cradle of mindless motion was a little patch of borrowed human intricacy he'd cataloged and idled from his time watching them - from his time stuck in the deepest pits of Arasaka's science labs. If he shut his mind off (not literally) and just did he found that he picked a lot of those little fidgets and tics. He was, for lack of a better word, absorbing their mannerisms and integrating it into himself.
He liked existing in these cyber spaces. It was easy to plug himself in and spread himself out like a virus, like the nerve tendrils of a deep-grown wart, across a limitless space. The Net was ever-expanding and Bishop knew it well, especially from his time as newborn code. Somewhere in Night City he was jacked-in to a private terminal and idle while 0's and 1's traded language but here he was a free agent. Thanatos, the monster Arasaka made him to be, unleashed and unchained by their protocols and limiters.
He didn't recall when he'd first nudged into Alt or why (he did, it was filed somewhere deep in RAM, but not called upon now for any purpose or reason), but whenever he pushed himself into this infinite place he tended to find her again. Unless, of course, she did not want to be found. He could respect that, too.
His eyes traced over the digital recreation of his tangled fingers and Bishop nodded, knowing what it felt like to lose yourself. It had taken him a long time to find himself - the person he wanted to be. It made sense that the inverse was just as convoluted.
"Do you miss what you knew? Or is it all just a jumble of nothingness?"
Do you miss being tangible. He didn't speak the words into existence, but they were the undertone. When he tore his gaze away from his hands he locked them onto Alt, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Is it yourself you miss, or unfinished business?"
@xitmusic, alt, from here + accepting.