( yes, much work to do with this one indeed. though, for his cooperation, eddie is glad to stroke a hand over robotnik's head — the way one would when soothing a frightened deer — and smooth his thumbs over the side of his faceplate where his cheeks should be. where they would be, if he weren't a filthy traitor who sold of his humanity for a can of motor oil and a handful of lasers.
eddie tries not to wither at the thought. )
See? You can be a good girl. That was very good of you. Can you do it again?
[Robotnik doesn't completely hate this. Why doesn't he completely hate this?
He can unpack that later, or maybe never.]
I'm sorry.
[He doesn't look sorry, but this is a point where being incapable of facial expressions really work for him, because otherwise he'd really be glaring up a storm.]
[Now, this, he does completely hate. So, the solution? Malicious compliance. He's been given a small amount of orders... with plenty of freedom for his systems to accept. The signs are ugly, any customers or callers are treated rudely, and he teaches swear words to any small children he encounters. And all the while, he's programming as much as he can in his head. He needs to get rid of this stupid compulsion before his entire life becomes servitude to this oaf.]
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( eddie wrinkles his nose but appears otherwise unaffected. )
Lower your decibels by, say... 60%? Is that time of the month, dear? Is that why you're so out of sorts?
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[As he rants, he lowers the volume on his voice, which frustratingly makes it less effective.]
There is no "time of the month!" How stupid are you?
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We'll have none of that.
Apologize.
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[He stops short. Ugh he has so much left to work on to excise this horrible little feature from his systems.]
...I'm sorry.
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eddie tries not to wither at the thought. )
See? You can be a good girl. That was very good of you. Can you do it again?
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He can unpack that later, or maybe never.]
I'm sorry.
[He doesn't look sorry, but this is a point where being incapable of facial expressions really work for him, because otherwise he'd really be glaring up a storm.]
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( he gives his robotic companion a final, dainty little pat before rising to his feet. )
Signage, buttons, stamps for the children. You've a lot to do, don't you?
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[Now, this, he does completely hate. So, the solution? Malicious compliance. He's been given a small amount of orders... with plenty of freedom for his systems to accept. The signs are ugly, any customers or callers are treated rudely, and he teaches swear words to any small children he encounters. And all the while, he's programming as much as he can in his head. He needs to get rid of this stupid compulsion before his entire life becomes servitude to this oaf.]