profoundly-naive  asked:

"Speaking of birthdays..." The ISO bit her lip, hands behind her back. "I was wondering, well, if..."


He spoke over his shoulder, as he often did. Nevertheless, meditations were light enough to present a hearty chuckle and a spritely smile at the notion. The annual celebrations of life so universal in human culture struck a good chord with him, and the life of the final ISO, such an admirable feat in itself, was something that needed far more frequent appreciation. He rubbed at his cheeks to loosen them before focusing again, voice coming out level and serene.

“It’s time to celebrate, isn’t it? I suppose there’s no antidote for your importance, and no room in my old mind for any reason I’d ever refuse.” His eyes flickered open, looking out to the pool, and to the city.

“You must have a thousand things you want to do. Where do we start?”