Meet the Robot (Open)

[Odile Advaire]

This place wasn't up to standard.

The fact that she'd never been somewhere that was up to standard didn't matter.

Was it her fault that no one had standards as high as hers?

Of course not.

The 'her' in question was Odile Cygnus Advaire.

A petite, dark haired young woman in a black leotard and yoga pants.

With a blank expression that was eerie, that made a statue look animated.

With almost dead eyes.

Who had been referred to as a ballet dancing robot, a serial killer in training, hell on earth (...She preferred to hear it as 'Hel' of course), a psychotic perfectionist, and of course, 'that miserable little bitch'.

She tended to take those comments as compliments. Mostly because they were all facets of the truth.

She liked to think of herself as a more highly evolved being. Mostly because everyone around her was so stupid.

Well. With a few exceptions.

None of whom was currently with her.

She looked around, gaze sharpening into a glare.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

People parted around her, going out of their way to avoid her.

Anyone else might be hurt. She was just proud.

But honestly, was there a single person here with two brain cells to rub together?

[Loren Belgrave]

He didn't make a habit of approaching people. Occasionally, he might find himself sitting next to a couple or a group engaged in an interesting discussion, and then he might discreetly insert himself into the conversation. It was nice to socialize sometimes.

Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight, he was here to attend a ballet. Loren was dressed in a light silk dress shirt and slacks, figuring he might as well look appropriate for the occasion. He'd forgone a jacket, however. The theatre would be hot enough. No sense in adding to the misery. The sacrifices he made for fine art. Well, at least it was more bearable in the evening.

He was early. Loren was always a little early; he hated rushing if he could avoid it. This outing had been planned several days in advance, and he'd bought himself a good seat near the front so he could actually see the dancers. Now, after picking up his ticket, he was just passing time until the show started. As with his other visits to the Arsht Center, the place was buzzing with energy and enthusiasm.

Except for one spot in the middle of the crowd. There was one little island of dead calm where the theatre-goers parted to avoid a most peculiar figure. And as he approached her, he began to understand why.

She was so slight, so petite, and dressed like one of the dancers. She had the physique of one as well. But there was something deeply unsettling about the young woman. Unconsciously, he'd paused to examine her, causing his own ripples in the human current.

[Odile Advaire]

As if a shark sensing prey, or a bird sensing a shift in the air, Odile pivoted.

Idiot idiot idiot...

All sensible enough to part around her, to stay out of her well defined personal space.

More of them...

Ah.

A man.

Lanky. Built like an unattractive stick.

Asymetrical facial features, poor taste in clothing.

He looked... twitchy.

Almost like a rabbit when an eagle came near.

She knew that first hand.

For just a moment, she cocked her head. And then smiled her tiny smile. A brief flicker of expression on a still face.

And then she moved forward, people still moving away from her.

"I would say take a picture because it would last longer, but I have no desire to have you take my picture. You seem to be here for the ballet. Or you are lost on the way to visit a prostitute."

Her voice is flat, lacking anything reseambling a normal human's variations in pitch and inflection. It's soft, steady and...inhuman.

Her gaze sharpens, dead eyes momentarily brightening, looking him up and down again, a bird of prey trying to decide if it wants to eat what it's just caught.

'If nothing else, he'll pass the time.'

[Loren Belgrave]

"Haah..."

His own lips quirked up into an insincere smile, and though instinct told him to look away, make his apologies, and move on... he somehow got the impression that it wouldn't be that easy. It was funny. She was so little, and he was so tall. But she walked with absolute confidence and looked him over unabashedly.

He doubted she cared that he'd been staring. He doubted, in fact, that she followed many social norms herself.

He'd never wanted to walk away from someone as much as he wanted to walk away from her, because she was so not normal. His mind was working a mile a minute as he sized her up, taking in the doll like quality of her expression. Expressionless, or almost. He saw hints of personality glimmer in her eyes, but they were so brief. And her voice... she had to have worked at it to get it so flat, so completely absent of any inflection.

His skin prickled. It felt like a joke to reply as if he saw nothing wrong with her. She could probably see it in his eyes and posture, but he couldn't help that.

"I'm here for the ballet. What are you here for?"

[Odile Advaire]

"Apparently to answer stupid questions. At the moment I am waiting for some of the ballerinas however. They are clearly in need to someone to tell them how miserable their dancing has been. It shames all of us."

For a moment, there's something in her tone. A flash of rage, before it's gone again, back to an eerie monotone.

"I assume, judging by your appearance, that you're here alone. Good. With any luck we can prevent you from adding to the already shallow gene pool"

Oddly enough, this was, perhaps, her version of kindness.

She hadn't been nearly as nasty as she could be and as far as she was concerned, she was stating fact.

"Do you know much about the ballet?"

Another birdlike head tilt.

Of course he didn't. So few people did. But it was... polite to ask...

Admittedly she had about as much use for politeness as a bird had for a wetsuit, but... well, ballet was one of the few things she bothered to educate the miserably incompetent masses about.

Almost absently, she shifted a bit. Her posture was still as straight as if someone had replaced her spine with rebar, but there was... an ever so slight relaxation. Her 'teaching' pose her sister called it. Her vague attempt to put others at ease. It didn't tend to work, but she didn't really care.

[Loren Belgrave]

Well ah... he wasn't really sure what to say to that first comment. It was pretty obvious by now that she was a ballerina, and she had some very high standards that tonight's dancers apparently didn't meet. Which meant he was probably still getting his money's worth, not that he'd mention this out loud.

Not everyone was inhuman like her.

...actually, huh... wonder if...

Her next comment pulled him away from that train of thought abruptly.

'With any luck we can prevent you from adding to the already shallow gene pool'

Alright. He didn't know if she had something personal against him, though reason told him she probably didn't. She hardly knew him after all. But she really didn't have to be so rude about it. There was a fine line between bluntness and rudeness. Then again, she probably didn't care.

Still, he didn't particularly feel like being a complete doormat today. Even if she intimidated him. Guess he'd try for a little humor to lighten things up. Oh wait, what was he even thinking? Humor? With her? Haha... oh, that was funny, Loren. Really funny.

"The only way to make it less shallow is to add to it. Though I've got no plans to do so anytime soon."

Or ever possibly. 35, single, and not even looking. Good chances, those.

Guh. She was tilting her head, asking him another question. Talk about jarring. Body language that came across as inquisitive without the actual emotion on her face.

"But uh... no. I don't know much about ballet. Just a layman here. Why don't you enlighten me?"