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[Rhys shows up on-camera, his brows furrowed slightly at the communications device. You're probably gonna notice pretty quickly that there's a mechanical port on the side of his head, and the corresponding eye is a bright, unnatural blue. And, of course, that he's sporting a yellow mechanical arm in place of an actual biological one.

But hey, nobody's perfect. Without much further ado, he turns the phone over so the camera is facing the floor, and there's definitely the sound of some buttons being pressed, some tampering that sounds like he's attempting to remove the back panel.]

Oh, for the love of- [The phone drops to the floor, the screen going dark. Rhys picks it up a minute later, flipping it back over so the camera is facing him again.] What kind of backwards tech is this? You have the technology to teleport us to different realities and you decide to give us an outdated ECHO recorder that my grandma could have built?

Look, is anyone on this junkheap versed with the network systems you've got going here? 'cause I've got the same functions in my arm and that's way more convenient for me. I've been trying to access it directly, but it'll probably take me awhile. If anyone knows how to cut corners, you know, now's the time to be helpful.

Also, hey. I'm Rhys: hero from Hyperion, new arrival, good with technology. [A pause, and then-] ...and if any of you are from Pandora, then you should know that I'm a totally laidback and innocent guy, and I didn't do it.

[[ooc: Forgot to post this earlier, but here is Rhys' Permissions post!]]

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[He pulls a face.]

Please don't tell me you got married at thirteen. That is so- beyond stone-age awful.

[THERE IS MARRIAGE ON PANDORA, just, there's a lot more guns. Also who's avoiding the question, not Rhys, Rhys never avoids anything.]

On second thought, they probably don't even have drinking ages where you're from. [On second thought, do they have drinking ages on Pandora? It's probably like, 6 lbr.]

[she shakes her head, gesturing vaguely with her drink.]

I'm unmarried. I was never much for being a proper lady, and improper ladies don't command good dowries. Besides, my father couldn't be bothered after the two eldest put up a fuss. Having suitors cluttering up the castle made him cranky. ...more cranky.

[plus, the marriage market for soulless girls kinda sucks.]

But really, a portion of your sanity? I can see it being an...adjustment, but you don't really seem mad.

[one proooobably should not judge their sanity levels by sophie's standards, all things considered.]

Well, good for them. If someone tried to marry me at thirteen- well. [Rhys considers that for a moment, before shivering. Does anybody remember their pre-teen years with fondness?]

And thanks. Being down there with all the other crazies starts, uh- getting to you after awhile, you know?

[No, she probably doesn't, because Rhys is starting to realize that he's being a little too free with information. Sure, this chick is some shapeshifting torture doll, but she's still one of the few people he's got here. Explaining the whole Jack thing would probably not be to anyone's benefit right now.

'Aw, are you ashamed of me? That's cute. It's gonna come out sooner or later, you know. That you're a- how do I put this kindly?- a piss-for-brain with a few screws short of a hardware store.'

Rhys closes his eyes and takes another deep drink. He doesn't cough nearly as much this time when it goes down.]

Castles, though. So like, seriously stone age stuff, right?

It would have been a fiasco? [that seems to amuse her.] I was all bruises and muddy dresses at thirteen, hardly wife material. [then her expression sobers just a touch, not enough to quite lose all of its humor.] I have some idea about madness, perhaps.

[she watches him, the subtle waver in his words, the way his head tilts slightly to one side before he closes his eyes and takes a gulp of his drink. he's hiding something, but who is she to press about hiding things? still, her eyes are intent, studying him. the difference between this and all the other times he's been measured up is that there's no smarmyness about it, only curiosity.]

Not really. We were hardly living in a cave speaking in grunts. [not that her way of talking doesn't emphasize that rather clearly or anything.] All ages are modern to those born into them, after all. I often lived out in the woods, but that was by choice.

At thirteen, I was president of my own Future Business Leaders club. [Rhys shakes his head, but he can't help smiling at the memory.] I did not make good business choices at that age. Ended my fiscal year in so much imaginary debt...

[He's avoiding her gaze now, but finds himself curious when she talks about her time. Strange, really.]

Can't imagine it'd be fun, either way. You know... I don't think I've ever actually been in a forest. Most of Pandora is desert and mountain, and Helios isn't exactly brimming over with nature.

[half of what he says goes over her head--president? fiscal years? imaginary debt? but she still gets the point, and smiles.]

I suppose you have to start somewhere in order to learn better.

[the drop of his eyes tells her as much as anything else. this guy really wants to be king (or whatever) of his company? maybe things are very different in his world. she takes another drink, less timid this time, and gestures at him with her drink in a way that indicates she might have been pointing at him if her hand was free.]

Well, that settles it. Next time I'm taking you to the gardens. That is a travesty. There's not even anything dangerous there, which is a significant benefit over Proprevalles. It wasn't really a matter of fun, but it wasn't that bad if you knew how to survive. I happen to be better than average at surviving.

[so...she lived alone in a dangerous forest instead of in a perfectly safe castle. sophie...]

Better than average, huh?

[Rhys quirks an eyebrow, his expression almost challenging.]

Well, if there's not anything that's going to kill me in five seconds, then I guess I could take a look. This sort of space- the, uh, lounges and metal walls, that's more my thing. You're more like... I don't know, folklore fairy dust kind of person.

You've seen what I really look like, and I'm not dead yet. My...properties...make me extremely difficult to kill. [she shrugs, then smiles, setting down her glass.] You look like you want me to prove it to you somehow.

[then she laughs, although not quite so all-out as before.]

The fae folk are unfriendly little things with very sharp teeth and very little dust. And this--[she gestures at the room, and at thie doorway]--all this metal and odd-smelling air, there's no life in it. So I don't think I quite believe you.

No, I got that. It was just the way you said it.

[He shrugs.]

Don't believe me on what? That I like it this way?

I stand by my statement. Better than average.

[she gives a little shrug and takes a sip of her drink.]

That living somewhere sterile and dead where everyone who lives everywhere else hates you and people are apparently constantly out to 'screw' [that one does get air quotes] one another is what anyone really wants out of life.

Oh.

[There's a long pause at that. Rhys takes a drink, almost to the bottom of his glass, and shrugs. He doesn't know how to respond at first, but after a few moments he visibly composes himself, shoulders set straight.]

This is what I am.

[He slips off of the stool then, moving back to where the bottles are kept. Rhys scoffs when he gets there, lifting an arm up in a 'screw this' sort of gesture.]

And it's not- sterile and dead. It's order and it's power. It's neat, minimalistic, people would kill- have killed for it. It's survival of the fittest, and Sophie- [Rhys is building on his words, drawing himself up again as he reaches the crescendo. He looks up at her as he pours, throwing on his most dazzling grin.] -I'm not dead yet.

[He's not watching his pouring and winds up sloshing a good bit of gin over the counter, where flecks of it splatter on his pants.]

-oh, for real? Come on, that would have looked so cool.

[sophie can't help it; she laughs. she laughs as she stands up and joins him at the bar, downs the rest of her drink and places it next to his for a refill. the thing is, it's not mean or mocking laughter.]

I think I like you, Rhys. Somehow you manage to be charming, and you're right, you aren't dead yet. What is so wonderful about order, though?

Oh good. I've spent an hour in your company and you think you like me.

[He laughs regardless, giving a one-shouldered shrug.]

Charming though- I've got charming in the spades. [There's a pause, as he focuses on making their drinks, the same as before because he's a creature of habit when he's not stealing ten million dollars and getting shot at.]

Order, it's... well, if you have to ask then you wouldn't get it.

Chronic understater, remember?

[yes, rhys, she likes you.]

Well, then I expect the charm to continue. [she watches him make the drinks, how almost fastidious he is about it. that's interesting too.]

Likely true. It would be a poor outcome for a creature like me, so I don't particularly see the appeal.

[She'd damn well better. He needs at least one friend in this joint.]

Poor outcome? How is it a poor outcome to know where all of your assets are, or have everything around you under your control?

[this time, when she smiles there's a strange tinge of sympathy. none of her siblings ever understood the place between that she occupies either. they always demanded she be one thing or another, good or evil, and she can be all things, or in that case, neither.]

Where would a thing like me fit into that sort of world, Rhys?

Well, I'm not offering to take you back to Helios with me.

[He finishes making his drink and moves back to the bar stool, sitting backwards on it this time so he can lean his elbows up on the bar.]

So you don't have to worry about that. Just saying that, you know, whatever floats your boat doesn't have to, uh. Float mine.

[That sounded better in his head.]

And vice versa.

No, but you did ask.

[it might be obvious she's attempting to hide her amusement at his awkward metaphor as she hops up onto the barstool with a grace that belies how inebriated she appears to be and raises her glass to him in a small salute before taking a drink. she's sitting facing him, and her feet swing idly, not quite reaching the footrest except with the tips of her toes.]

So what is it like there, anyway, besides minimalistic and orderly and worth killing for?

I... don't really know how to describe it to someone from a time period where crossbows are the most advanced form of warfare.

[He tries to consider it, staring thoughtfully into his gin and tonic, before taking another drink and letting out a long breath.]

A lot of assholes. It's the kind of place where everyone's looking out for themselves and trying to get ahead by stepping on the backs of everyone around them. [Rhys shrugs.] Not that I'm any different. It's the kind of place that I do well in.

Not for my family, they aren't.

[but she doesn't elaborate, instead listening to him talk about life on helios.]

Sounds a bit like my family. Hardly a paragon of order and power, though.

[she sets her chin on her hand, looking at him with an expression that's hard to read. she may be curious, she may be measuring, she may be amused, she may just be a bit squinty-drunk. her voice doesn't offer any clue to her thoughts either, the inflection unchanging. she's even still smiling, as though the question isn't terribly serious.]

Does that mean you're just waiting for your moment to try and stab me in the back?

Well, I- I'm not stupid enough to come out and say it if I was.

[He furrows his brows at that, lips pursing in a pout. That's not something you just ask someone, Sophie.]

There'd be no point to it, anyway- except pissing you off, which is not exactly high up on my 'to-do' list. [Smooth. Totally inconspicuous. At least he's honest?]

[sure it is, when you're a groeneveldt. but she does appreciate the honesty, or at least the genuine pout when the idea is suggested. she smiles, and briefly pats the shoulder closest to her before pushing her hair back over her shoulder and taking another drink.]

That's a bit of a relief. My twin makes a go of it regularly, and I think I mentioned our little familial spat. It might be nice to just have a friend or two.

Doesn't seem like stabbing you in the back is a smart move. Especially when you do it regularly.

[Rhys shrugs, totally not understanding the concept of 'digging your own grave'. I wish I could say it was the alcohol talking but nope, he's just usually this terrible at being self aware.]

The element of surprise is pretty much integral to the whole deal if you want it to actually work at all.

Well, her methods did vary. That and I'm a fool for ever taking her at her word, but I thought on the way to my father's deathbed...

[the movement of her hand is careless, but her drink doesn't quite slosh out of the glass. she gives a shrug. it's not that these things don't hurt mentally or physically, because they do, but the gin makes it easier to maintain emotional distance.]

The last time, she tried to poison me, and then threw me into her house's furnace, which was quite unpleasant, but not unbearable. Then I ended up in that spat with my brothers involving the fingerbones and the spear, so it was quite the day.

[and, of course, her father also died, believing still that sophie had betrayed him. but she's so literally far away from all of that, now, and there's no knowing if she'll ever return. at the moment, that's a bit freeing. she tilts her head into her hand, sending her hair spilling over her shoulder and also the surface of the bar.]

In conclusion, repeated attempts have shown that stabbing me in general, literally or figuratively, tends not to go exactly as planned. But I hardly want to bore you with stories. Also, you haven't actually said you won't, just that it would be stupid.

[maybe she's not as drunk as she seems? still, the lack of real answer doesn't seem to perturb her in the slightest.]

[Rhys just sort of listens, halfway between believing her and just taking it in at face value and shrugging it off anyway. He doesn't really know how to deal with other people's suffering, and he's kind of a shitty confidant. So he just nods, feeling awkward and nursing his gin.]

Yes, well, now that I know you're immune to fire, that plan just went down the drain anyway.

[Sarcasm. That'll definitely show her that he's sympathetic.]

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