[h1][/h1]
[indent][indent][indent][indent]“ 𝙴𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑. ”[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]


	Stalking into the room with an early morning gruff exhaled from his nose (catching his breath from his work-out), as his tall frame, built exceedingly well for the malnourishment of an underpaid bodyguard of his height, which was at least several inches above six feet.  He couldn't be too bothered to mind the warning of his flatmate, but try as he might, the ex-military dog acted as if he could at least somewhat emphasize with the younger man's existential existence that resided from mostly inside his hermit/man cave. Adam was a Rigger, though. Therefore, he operated on a different level of physics, gravity, reality... and as much as Nektarios wanted to not care about the little scratches and boo-boos as they drilled into him during boot camp, he bit his tongue -- metaphorically speaking and eyeballed the load of synthetic soy-grub, his personal favorite only because he didn't know anything else. [color=silver][i]And fuck the[/i] Electric Rose.[/color] He was sick of going there.

	[color=796efb]“Charity luncheon? Piss off. I've got enough volunteer work under my belt for the rest of my nine lives,”[/color] The one-armed robot clicked and clanked with clumsy motor skills as the large man took his share of grub. He finally relented to Adam's comment, rolling the man's coos from his own guilty conscious, [color=796efb]“And, yeah, I'll remember that next time.”[/color] Years in the military taught him much differently, but then again, he knew the body transmissions came with a price. He'd seen the end equation of a fried user. It wasn't a pretty one by all means, but he still thought Adam was being sensitive. Still, he admitted defeat, [color=796efb]“It's why I let you stick around, boy,”[/color] he shook his head, rubbing the morning shadow that stubbled his weathered face. His fingers trailed down his square chin as he squatted towards the ground, ignoring any thought to acknowledge Adam's own cybercom, Inu-tan, dressed for the occasion as always. Adam treated his machinery more like family than anything, and it was disturbing to say the least, not that Nektarios could wanted to call the kettle black.

	His own cybercom had seen her fair share of let downs from him, which explained her glitches and the wear of the Wire attributed generous information and space for her. She never minded, though. It meant he was using her, and she was doing her job. Her perpetual approval and moral encouragement despite his cold-hearted meathead mentality ways was why he really liked her, and he'd be damned if he had to replace her. 

	[color=silver][i]Fine. F-it. Adam won Round One.[/i][/color] 

		[color=silver][i]It's really too damned early for this.[/i][/color]

	An oddly shaped metal-colored nob, bent and twisted from hard-use and illicit cleaning, scraped bits of locket and door frame as Nekatarios budged open the ratchet entrance to the bathroom himself to the toxic waste in front of him, and as the clanking of his own morning etiquette made its own chiming of feet against dusty, unkept cheap concrete exercised boarding, his cybercom, Tamago-tan, sprinkled his early morning grump with her usual humble optimism, [color=f9ad81]“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu ~ !”[/color] Her hands were clasped together in nimble, playful prayer, and her head was bowed, curly hair swaying back and forth. [color=f9ad81]“It's okay, Nektarios-sama!”[/color] Her childish smile twinkled with her astral eyes with happiness to have added her own personality to the conversation, [color=f9ad81]“... Now, go take a[i] shower![/i]”[/color] She was standing next to him, and now playing with the length of her hair and tapping a finger to her plush cheek and making a wink, which turned into a nudge against his solid demeanor.

	Her girlish charm and energy truly disgusted him, but he adored her like his own, nonetheless, especially in her current outfit. He may have been a buff buzzkill, but he always enjoyed her dressing all kawaii in pastel fairy kei clothing. She was a good accent for his monochrome blunt pistol style, always equipped near him at hand because he was the paranoid type and took no chances, even with good ol'Adam boy. There was no telling in today's society; and fuck, it would torture him to kill someone so close to him; but if he had no other choice, pulling the trigger was no hesitation. The military didn't have to teach him that, even if it did. Nektarios glanced at Adam, still coddling his mechanics and then he looked down at Tamago-tan, [color=796efb]“Yeah, yeah,”[/color] his body slid through the opening and slammed the door shut, rattling shelf space in the less-then kitchenette. 

	There ain't nothing like cold - dirty cheap - purple - cyber-rain at six in the bloody blue and gray morning.

		[color=silver][i]Ain't nothing like it.[/i][/color] 

	Okay, so it wasn't purple. It was more of a weird pale powdered color that reflected every bathroom just right so that it looked kind of like a thistle color. Electricity was weird like that, and it kind of reminded him of Tamago-tan's hazel, astral eyes that could turn their colors according to the background. They weren't quite like a chameleon, but it was close enough for intrigue. So yeah. Ain't nothing like it. [color=silver][i]'Cept maybe Tamago-tan.[/i][/color]