Even as he recognizes it, he can’t help the mild complacency that begins to settle over him as Ruben continues speaking, still far more transparent than he’s expecting. There’s something mesmerizing about the deep, rich tone and the small bits of genuine information sprinkled in, as if each one is some sort of gift. Joseph supposes that they are, all things considered.
As he expected, it’s nothing more than unfortunate coincidence that he and Sebastian were caught up in matters that don’t concern them. Innocent ( at least in this scenario ) bystanders. Was it as simple as the wrong place and time? He figures it doesn’t matter much—the conclusion reached is still the same.
What catches his attention most is the information pertaining specifically to himself. Of all the things he doesn’t expect, compliments are certainly chief among them; even if some of them seem to carry as much insult as they do praise. He doesn’t let that bother him, but two pieces stand out and fill him with immensely conflicting feelings.
“You’ve been helping me? Then why…” No, he can reach this conclusion on his own. He had thought the infection came upon him as some sort of ill intent. How could he not? His body relaxes with the concentration of processing it all. It’s the only piece that doesn’t fit, so he must be looking at it wrong. “Does this affliction bring me some sort of protection, too?”
It’s a question primarily to himself, volume low and speech directed toward the hand once again loosened from his firearm. Why is this even still out? He gives one more quick glance to Ruben before finally returning the pistol to its holster. He remains with it while he finishes wrapping his head around everything he’s been told. He can’t believe the first words that come to mind.
“If that’s the case, then thank you. Even if you have your own reasons for it, I suppose I owe you my life.” Normally it would be too much power given in that statement, but in here there is already an absence of limit to Ruben’s power.
With his only line of defense securely out of the way, he faces Ruben with less apprehension than he anticipated. After all, he’s just admitted to being on Joseph’s side, hasn’t he? Still, he should be careful. That protection could be revoked at any moment. It’s mostly an attempt to appear polite, but nonetheless it carries him to retrieve the second glass presented. It could have seemed as a way to put distance between them again, but he immediately closes that space. A small show of trust.
“So you’re searching for someone. This is someone who can end all of this?” It’s a complicated matter, but if Ruben’s goal is to locate another in order to help him, what power must they have? His abilities inside STEM are too great to need further amplification. That can only mean—
“Someone with more ability than you on the outside.” At this point, it’s not even a question.
There it was, one of the highlights of speaking with Joseph right at it’s work, the problem solving he managed just by verbally announcing his ideas, theories and hypothesis to the outside,
“Exactly. Excellent work, detective.”
Ruben replied somewhat sarcastically with a golf clap to punctuate,
“The reason I’ve got so much influence and power is because there is nothing stopping me, my everything is in here, my conscious, my body. Everything is inside.”
As he went about elaborating with the detective, the wine glass he held was carefully place upon the table, giving him two free hands back,
“If I wasn’t the body of STEM, then there wouldn’t be much for me to do, I was a walking hazard.”
A bitter yet true remark he recalled, pacing as carefully as he spoke,
“This, for instance,”
Ruben brought notice to himself, pulling down the hood that covered the majority of his head, revealing a plastic plate that held an open access to his brain
“It wouldn’t be possible to have this if I were still breathing, though it’s quite convenient I assure.”
In appeal to his own aesthetic, the grotesque nature of the cerebral plating was rather intriguing, though it served it’s purpose aside from just looked wildly absurd,
“That does lead me back to the matter of my key way out.”
Ruben refocused the conversation with a pointed index sat on a crossed arm,
“None of this would be necessary had I a real body, something that could feel, cooperate.”
If it was one thing that deterred his work often, if was his physical impediments,
“Honestly speaking I’ve considered both you and your partner, but I know that would only kill you both if I tried to take what I needed.”
An inconvenient but true reality, and if Ruben already knew it wouldn’t work out then there was no point to shed needless blood on something entirely useless,
“I’ve already gotten what I could from you and Sebastian, even Kid.”
The tone that Ruben spoke in was one of mild satisfaction, to think that even with Mobius’s best efforts put in to terminate his conscious, Ruben still managed just dandy and in fact became better off the more they attempted to clean out the system.
“Care for a drink, detective?”
Ruben ended his lecture with a leisure reference to the filled wine glasses on the table, now accompanied by a second choice of white wine,
“You can’t get inebriated in here, not unless you really wish to be.”
He comforted with a dry tone, sauntering back to the armchair and resting himself into the seat, enjoying the drink once more.
