@computerqueen
It would have been nice to have been assigned housing in the Fibonacci Ward. It really would have. Especially now that he had a job at Café December, in the Ward's uppermost reaches--but mostly because Harpuia was quickly becoming addicted to the sound, smell, and feel of the Ward's downtown area. It reminded him so much of Neo Arcadia before its fall--before the city center, and twenty million people with it, had been decimated by the orbital Ragnarok weapon. Neo Arcadia had never been perfect (even when Harpuia's father had actually been in charge, and not his malevolent imposter), but it was home. For most of Harpuia's twenty-three years since his activation, it was home.
And now it was gone.
Worse, Harpuia was stuck in Spirale, cut off from his siblings, cut off even from Zero (infuriating and fascinating in equal measure that he was). Being in the Fibonacci Ward made him feel like he was just an inch or so closer to home, made him feel that much more comfortable in his synthetic skin.
But no. He was housed in the Archimedes Ward, instead.
Well...fuck it. Harpuia had been making due with a shit hand since the day he first opened his eyes. He might as well do the same now.
Exploring the Archimedes Ward was...well, it wasn't unpleasant. The place had some unique sights, to be certain--Savior's Respite stood out as quite the unique experience, and Harpuia could have easily let himself get lost in the Tempus Museum, though he'd never be so unwise.
But today was the first time Harpuia stumbled into Dionysus' Chalice.
The bar wasn't that far from his domicile, actually, and it had quite the aura of noise and life spilling out of the doorway and into the cool autumn air. He figured it was worth at least sticking his head in, even if he had no intentions whatsoever of wasting money on things he didn't need. Namely, on food. Or drink. Alcohol had no effect on Reploids. And drinks that could affect Reploids hadn't been made in centuries in his timeline, since before the global energy crisis. (Frivolities were not a priority when resources were scarce.)
Harpuia wasn't in the habit of people-watching, but as he looked over the crowd at the bar, he thought: why not. When you had nothing to do, it was as good a time to start a new hobby as any.
But speaking of drinks that could affect Reploids.
Harpuia spotted a figure at the bar who couldn't have been an organic life-form; without his helmet and the full sensory suite housed inside, he couldn't be precisely sure, but he was almost certain that the individual at the bar with the green drink and the--swirly straw?--was not organic.
As for the drink, from the potent scent alone, he was pretty sure that was battery acid.
He wasn't in the habit of being nosy, but some things necessitated intervention. Harpuia stepped up to Queen and fixed her--and her lime-adorned, silly-straw decorated glass of acid--with a judgmental stare.
"You're not actually going to drink that, are you?" His low, husky alto carried an edge of disgust. "I don't know what your specs are, but I most sincerely doubt that will do anything good for your internal systems."
