Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sheila merely watched the scene playing out in front of her, paying careful attention to XXVIII. "In the beginning, contact with other handlers was rather sporadic. They seem to be attempting to remedy that now, though." Certainly, she had never been given any assignment like this one before. "I think those in charge would certainly encourage handlers to mingle outside the labs, especially if their layhr were amicable towards each other. But there's no 'official' obligation to see other handlers on the outside." She paused and then added, "At least, that I know of."

XXVIII blinked at that. "I guess... It's possible that they chose our caretakers as partners. That one," by which she meant Sheila, obviously, but she was no longer comfortable refering to the woman as 'hers', "doesn't seem to need any help. She can take care of herself..." and yet XXVIII found herself trailing off. Sorrow, like the chemicals in the labs, also had a scent. And frequently, Sheila stank of it.

She continued on. "Maybe. I don't know. I never thought about her choosing me." Had Sheila's been one of the many faces in the continuous parade past her kennel? The female layhr couldn't recall. She'd never really paid attention. They came, they went. "Huh. I just never..."

Abandoning that line of thought, she lay down once more, head resting on her paws and watching both Lion and XXXVI's interactions carefully.

Social? 28? Not an idea consistent with Sheila's mental image of the layhr. However, anti-social didn't fit the bill either, not accurately. 28 had never integrated herself into her keeper's company, yet she never avoided it either. Apathy, or rather indifference, now that she thought about it. How embarrassing, to be given a subject to watch and then proceed to perhaps ignore some of the most important signs. Perhaps she had been judging the layhr somewhere along the lines of a pet of sorts? With all the information and first hand observations of 28 that had time and time again proven otherwise, now, that was just shameful. It was her mistake, and it would be rectified.

"Yeah," she agreed. "It must be quite the shock to suddenly be out on your own, such as it is." That was why there was the cage phase, to acclimate the layhr to the handler. But to be suddenly swept away from all that was familiar and companionable... As she understood it, there wasn't all that much physical interaction between the subjects, save for scheduled and unscheduled experiments. Still they were in close proximity with one another in the cages and laboratories. One would think it was logical to conclude exposure, perhaps trhough reliance on senses other than sight, with other layhr was the expected norm. And the handler program forcefully separated them. Another unexpected side effect.

A soft chuckle bubbled its' way past Sheila's lips as the conversation led onward. It wasn't as awkward as she had first thought it would be to talk to a kid, and she hoped she hadn't been talking down to him. People were people, after all. Apparently she had been doing something right, for now someone roughly ten years her junior thought she could be somewhat classified under the nebulous heading of "cool." She could die happy now, one goal scratched off of her to do list.

Only one off that list, a tiny part of her mind whispered bitterly. Abruptly, all humour about the situation drained away. And she'd been doing so well, not to dwell on such things, at least for a short while. She squashed that thought, shoving it down it a little mental box kept visualized just for that purpose and focused back on the topic at hand.

"A few other handlers, mostly in passing. Other layhr, not so much, save for the initial, ah... exposure during the handler application process." None of her encounters, to her mind, were worth relating.

Nonsense. That's what he was talking: nonsense. Or perhaps not. She almost asked him to repeat himself, but silenced herself at the last moment. There seemed to be, well, XXVIII wasn't sure what there seemed to be, but something was almost palpable between XXXVI and Lion.

Maybe he just wanted her to think there was something there. She remembered a few of her fellows like that in the kennels. Whispering lies, rumors, and stories made to frighten and disgust. Mind-games and the like. How distasteful. As if there weren't enough problems already, some had to go stir things up and make even more. That's exactly what he was doing, wasn't it? Somehow, it just didn't sit right with her. And that made her uncomfortable, that this layhr, whom she'd probably never see again had the nerve to get upset at her when she spoke only the truth and then go and twist things on her.

"Work together how?" She surprised herself at how petulant she sounded, like some cub whining for the tiniest scrap of affection. She had been aiming for something along the lines of righteous indignation. "For what?" If he really was messing with her, she'd find out in his response and that thought helped to ground her, to find her center again. Because he was wrong. He had to be. The female wasn't sure she could handle much more of this introspective crap. "And, why?"

She wasn't really agitated, but frustrated, more at herself than anything else. Even if she wasn't really ready to admit that to anyone just yet. If she had missed things like this, what else was it possible she missed? The idea that she was directly responsible for her own unhappiness had not yet consciously occured to her, but on some level, poked and prodded their by this enlightening exchange of ides, she recognized it.

"Yes." She did know. She had done the same thing, after all, even if such one-sided conversation was probably more for her benefit than the layhr's. It was so much easier to unburden yourself to someone when you knew they couldn't answer back. Sheila hadn't intended to talk of such things in order to acclimate herself to Twenty-Eight, it still wasn't an easy subject to broach, but the words had just come, unbidden. And why not? As she thought back on it, it did make sense to share such things to someone who would be sharing her home and her life and would come to discover such things in time anyways. (Besides, the scant documentation GeNtech had released never explicitly stated exactly how much the average layhr could understand. Basic commands proved that they were trainable. Beyond that, who knew?)

"Oh, ah, well..." The young woman trailed off, chin gently cupped in a hand as she tried to recall some of the other layhr she'd seen. Which, as she thought about it, did not amount to very much experience. "... they're all different," she finished lamely. "A veritable plethora of shapes, sizes and colors," she added, feeling the obligation to attempt to describe. "I'm sure there's an analogy about snowflakes or butterflies in there somewhere."

XXVIII just stared. Her mind, racing over all these new possibilities had apparently hit its' limit. All anxiety and apprehension died, immediately. She understood. Her fellow layhr was searching for a constant in his life and he had found it in his handler. That was the conclusion the black and blue layhr had come to. So be it. Everybody needed one. Who was she to say that his was wrong? It gave him enjoyment, a reason to keep on. As did she.

She had her constant. The one thing that never left her. The layhr had no words in her vocabulary for things such as hope or faith. It all fell under her somewhat nebulous idea of a constant. That one thing she could depend on, the only thing she could control in her life. She didn't need another constant in her life. Fuel or fire, baby. Fuel or fire.

"I guess... she does, in a way," XXVIII answered the first querry. Much of her aplomb and conifidence returned by her internal revelation. She could talk about this with her typical detatchment. After all, it was no longer a subject that caused her any consternation. Therefore, it didn't matter and all this conversation would be was just idle musings. "She doesn't really ask, but she doesn't really deny it either." She tapped her tail as she was thinking, as if using the rhythm to help find the words. "It's sort of like an open door and going in or out is my decision."

"It's not hard to get along with her at all, really. She does her thing, I do mine. It suits us both. No undue stress." There was no callous or smug tone as she delivered that statement. As the female saw it, it simply was the way of things. "Well, not much, really. Minus the occasional flare-up and burnt equipment." There was a bit of maniac joy as she finished. She did so love to talk of the wonders of fire.

There was a pause, as XXVIII thought up a suitable retort. "I'd rather have a door with a handle to open or close at my discretion, than a door permanently open." Her tone implied a verbal shrug at this casual regret. "Of course, we can only take what's offered, I guess."

The shift in her attention as her male companion inquired about her tail was imediately obvious, as she perked, focusing her attention completely on him and began to flick the afformentioned flame-tip about almost flirtatiously. "My tail is very hot. Anybody else's, not so much." And that was a source of utmost pride and just a little bit of mournful longing. How sad that nobody else shared her... passion and talent.

Sheila blinked, clearly taken back for a moment by this suggestion. "Outside should be fine. I mean, the perimeter is enclosed behind a rather substantial fence. And I think we have the perfect excuse to do so," she said. "This is an "interaction experiement," correct? Well, our two wards don't seem to be interacting all that much. A change of scenery might just be the thing." Besides, there had been no mention of a time limit on this little observation practice in the instructions. Surely, who ever was in charge didn't expect them to spend hour after hour in here, waiting until necessity drove them from the room?

"It was a half-decent day out, anyways. No sense in wasting it all inside." She finished, with a firm nod. It would be interesting to see how the one-eyed layhr compensated for his lack of depth perception. And maybe it would be good for Twenty-Eight to see the concept of "play" in action. "And he seems so eager," the woman nodded towards Thirty-Six, "how could I refuse?"

That settled, she began to gather her things, using the premise of action to hide a sudden concern. She'd spent most of the day sitting, standing around outside shouldn't put much strain on her bad leg. And if it did? Well, propriety be damned. She'd just sit on the ground, if she had to. This wasn't about her, anyways. This was for Twenty-Eight.