IC Inbox - Piraeus

[doandordie]

"Just leave a message."

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[doandordie]

[Cassian drinks from his own mug in silence for a time, letting Bodhi's words linger in his mind. Kay was more than a droid, to him, and he hadn't realized just how much he had come to rely on his snarky co-pilot until he had lost him for good.

He turned the cup in his hands and then leaned back in his chair.]

I was the one who reprogrammed him. I didn't get it right, exactly. There were a lot of protections in place against reprogramming, and when I finished, there were a lot of bugs in the new program. Glitches. They made him a terrible liar, but they gave him a lot more freedom than the usual driod programming allows for. He just kept adapting and disobeying orders.

[There's a short, soft sound of a cut off laugh as he stares back into his tea.] He used to tell me our missions would go a lot smoother if I'd listen to him more. He was usually right.

[bodhing]

[Words are failing Bodhi. He was never good at this sort of thing, and it's even harder with Cassian sharing so much more information. The additional context explains a lot, and there's a bit of a hopeless feeling now. There's not really a fix to this, not that Bodhi can think of.

No droid is ever going to be the same, much as one person can never truly replace another. If only it were possible-- Bodhi stops himself at that thought. If only because there's no point in following that line of thought.

Even suggesting it would be cruel.]

I have some cookies that will go with the tea. [He's flying blind here, really. But food will help, surely. Pushing away from the table, he fetches a tin from the cabinet and brings it over, returning to his seat.]

[doandordie]

[It's almost a relief when Bodhi doesn't press further, and doesn't seem inclined to push. Cassian has said more or less all he is willing to on the matter. He's never really been one to share readily, or much. He was an intelligence officer. Keeping his ears open and his mouth shut was his life.

He doesn't watch Bodhi leave, or follow his movements, staring at the table distantly instead. When the other man returns, he takes one of the cookies, and bites off a piece of it before coming back from the distant lands of his memory.]

This is good tea.