[Truthfully, she had been expecting the real Dave, not that "real" is really the right word. The Other Dave. The one she spent the last three years with. She probably couldn't be blamed if she had forgotten Davesprite was a thing, really. She only spoke to him the one time three years ago, after all, briefly, and in the middle of the most hectic day of her life.
And yet, there's only a moment of confusion at the cawing before she pieces it together, and she feels a bit guilty for assuming at all. It's not like she hadn't just recently been reminded of the sprites' existence in the most ridiculous and embarassing way possible. And however much her mind defaults to the Alpha Dave, there's a part of her that's just as strongly attached to this one. Her memories of that alternate future are hazy and dreamlike, but she does remember. He was her Dave too, until he stepped back into this secondary role for everyone's sake. He's the same person -- without the three years of development she'd witnessed, maybe, but still Dave at the core.
The kindest thing she can do is not comment on it at all, probably. Not right now, at least.]
Whatever will I do? I suppose I can take the troll route and curl up in a pile with potential clients for a perfectly professional feelings jam, but that seems a little culturally appropriative.
[Ack. She's hit a wall, and the hallway here turns in the opposite direction of Dave's voice. She frowns and grudgingly follows it for lack of a better option, hoping it will twist back further up or contain a door that might lead the right way. Raising her voice a bit more, she calls back to him.]
no subject
And yet, there's only a moment of confusion at the cawing before she pieces it together, and she feels a bit guilty for assuming at all. It's not like she hadn't just recently been reminded of the sprites' existence in the most ridiculous and embarassing way possible. And however much her mind defaults to the Alpha Dave, there's a part of her that's just as strongly attached to this one. Her memories of that alternate future are hazy and dreamlike, but she does remember. He was her Dave too, until he stepped back into this secondary role for everyone's sake. He's the same person -- without the three years of development she'd witnessed, maybe, but still Dave at the core.
The kindest thing she can do is not comment on it at all, probably. Not right now, at least.]
Whatever will I do? I suppose I can take the troll route and curl up in a pile with potential clients for a perfectly professional feelings jam, but that seems a little culturally appropriative.
[Ack. She's hit a wall, and the hallway here turns in the opposite direction of Dave's voice. She frowns and grudgingly follows it for lack of a better option, hoping it will twist back further up or contain a door that might lead the right way. Raising her voice a bit more, she calls back to him.]
Marco.