From Ashe to Flame

Respect

She would never admit it to anyone's face -she hated even thinking about it, honestly- but the Reploid... Grey... was a good hand around the market. Faster than Ashe's normal walking pace, never waited and loafed around to talk (or antagonize) the merchants, and he always agreed to whatever she demanded. No back talk, no excuses, no... anything. It was fantastic. And it was just as terrifying.

Albert knew how to make a damn fine Reploid, and that was the unfortunate shame.

Her own daughter didn't come to attend to her duties until later in the day, almost around lunchtime. Even then, Ashe was still dressed as if she had just gotten up, still wearing her pajamas and her hair looking as if a hurricane had blown through. Mrs Bonne was not happy to see her this way, but there were few (if any) days when the Reploid was happy to see her daughter loafing around.

"When were you gonna wake me up Momma?" yawned Ashe without a true care in the world.

"As seeing you found someone to do your job for you, I elected to not even bother." came the tart reply.

"Thanks." Ashe smirked, giving another yawn as she stretched her arms out.

"You're not off the hook yet, pup." Mrs Bonne then retaliated, smirking herself. "Since you've had yourself a nice rest, you'll have no qualms with helping Taniyen haul in furniture."

"Like, nice lawn chairs and stuff, right?"

Mrs Bonne shook her head as she let out a rather nasty chuckle. "Refrigerators, wardrobes, and stoves, my little freak."

In hearing this, Ashe let out a well rehearsed, pitiful groan as she turned back around to get properly dressed. Mrs Bonne gave a rather satisfied smirk on her part as she turned around to see Grey casually make his way past her.

"Stop right there." she then demanded. "Where do you think you're going?"

Grey looked up at her as if he hadn't been aware that she had been standing there, and blinked.

"I said," Mrs Bonne emphasized, her tone darkening, "Where do you think you're-"

"Going?" Grey finished tonelessly. "I was requested to help vender number 77-97-114-116-121; Marty, I believe his name was. He saw me work with vender number 108-111-117 and thought that I could be useful to his business. I believe he deals with simulated electrical pulses- variances of the human heart beat and regulation within Reploid bodies. He makes a rather interesting conversation topic, but fails to make it entertaining."

"Inform Marty that he needs to come to me if he needs more help." Mrs Bonne snapped. "He knows that he can not simply ask some Reploid to do the job instead. It has been a policy before he even took up shop here."

"I figured that was your law." Grey agreed, "So I decided to inform him that I should not be able to help him unless we have your permission. And with your reaction, I'm going to assume that it is negative. Would you like me to inform him that you disagreed to our partnership?"

Mrs Bonne's mouth tightened into a firm line, her expression not easily readable. Grey simply looked back at her, awaiting further instruction like a Reploid created with a predetermined goal. No... not a Reploid, an android. He looked at her as if he were nothing more than an android created with a single goal in mind; and in knowing Albert Weil, it involved disliking her.

"Would you like me to tell Marty that you would not like us working together?" Grey asked again patiently.

"Yes." Mrs Bonne curtly agreed. "Then tell him to come see me immediately. We need to have a talk."