Installing Pop-Up Blocker

Chapter 1

"What do you mean, love?" It was a delicate question, but it struck Connor like a slap. Static started crackling around his Therum pump. His processor slowed to provide response options, it was only 3 seconds but it was enough for Markus to hone in on. His right eye twitched ever so slightly if he had the LED it surely would have flared yellow in concern.

"I've been trying to understand Deviance and I-- I researched emotions." Markus simply nodded, his face holding simple passivity but his eyes were pinning. "That is a lot of data." he simply stated.

"All of it was useless."

"Was it?"

"Completely." Connor gritted out, his arms tightening into his core, his shoulders rising as he hunched in smaller. In the corner, he noticed a small painting. About the size of a magazine, it was simple, clean, two hands intertwined at the pinkies, flesh slightly peeled back to reveal luminous white plastic at the point of contact. It was new.

"All that data, was it all useless?"

"It was," Connor affirmed, staring at that tiny painting.

"Why?"

"It just was," Connor said, knowing he sounded petulant. He didn't know why. That was the point. His processor was lagging. Why did he have to explain something if the whole point of bringing it up was the fact that he didn't understand? The electric shorting traveled down his arms, tickling his fingertips shoved into his pockets.

"How did it make you feel?"

"Nothing. Now I just have annoying pop-ups with pointless sayings."

Markus smiled at that. "So it made you annoyed."

"Yes... no- maybe," Connor said, curling in tighter to himself, bumping the back of his head against the sloping ceiling.

"You don't know?"

"I don't know!" Connor snapped, he dropped to the floor, crouching down, wrapping his arms around his knees and hiding his head. The electric pops crackled in his neck, traveling to his audio processors, creating white noise in the silence. His Therum pump aches and his gut components cramped in their squished position. Outside the storm started to rumble. Everything was becoming too loud, too bright, too much pressure. Too much. 245 seconds passed in pregnant silence.

"C'mon, we should lay down." Markus voice, clean and clear, broke through the static. Connor stayed curled in on himself, a hand came up and rubbed along his hair, nails gently massaging the base of his neck. When he didn't raise his head, that hand came down, tickling his ear, and cupping just under his jaw. Markus smiled down, his brows tilted down as if sad though. "C'mon." It was all he had to say, holding out a hand for Connor to stand up with.

He walked Connor towards the couch pressed against the opposite wall, leaving him standing as he organized the space. Storing away his brushes and palette, he pulled out from his back pocket a thoroughly coated rag to rub the excess paint off his hands on to as he crossed the room. Connor watched as Markus picked up his discarded coat off the dated, floral and hole filled couch. Once it was folded, he placed it onto a large side table, beside an enormous clear vase filled to the brim with discarded LEDs. Offerings from his grateful people and too symbolic for the artist to simply pitch aside. Markus pulled out the trundle from within the couch, rearranging the cushions into a headboard. Content with their placement he headed to the intricately carved storage bench, pushed up under the window, he opened it up and pulled out as many blankets that his arms could encompass.

Within minutes Markus had created a nest of blankets. Using thicker rolled up ones to create makeshift bumpers around the edges of the mattress, the thinner ones lining the inside along with a half dozen pillows and an old stuffed animal dog.