LOADING T A S K... QUARTERS
Isa didn’t honestly expect to be given proper quarters aboard the Terminus; but even if it was a smaller room, a little dusty, a bit neglected, crowded with assorted bits of unused and forgotten equipment, it was his. All for him, and... his things? Had he ever really had things, before? How does one acquire stuff? How do you know what you like, when you’ve only ever existed to know what other people like? A Sokol unit wouldn’t be bothered by such questions, though. For now, at least, he’s playing it safe, and trying not to do anything that looks too terribly individual. At present, his room is briskly tidy, with all that clutter cleaned and organized and nothing much in the way of personal touches to speak of. A clear desk. Bare shelves. An empty sill. That’s a spot he finds himself drawn to, when he has time alone: the window, just a pane of hull-grade glass between him and the stars. He’s very fond of it, even if it’s far from the choicest vantage point the Terminus has to offer. But there was a collection of system charts - yes, physical copies - hidden among the mess; Isa looked through them all, then hid them away, carefully, in a protective folder tucked away under his spare sheets. They’re delicate. Redundant, obviously. Inaccurate, here and there. Scrawled on, adjusted. Oddly... something. Humans have always stared at the sky, haven’t they? There are many simple reasons as to why, but simple reasons are their own sort of fascinating, aren’t they? Isa’s not sure what his reasons are, what pulls him to the glass. So, while the rest of the crew sleeps, Isa wanders between the exterior windows, just... looking. If asked, he’d find some reason to excuse it; but who asks an android anything?
