"What? Oh, no, I'm starting a trash fire." Mac dumps a wad of post-its into the wastebasket as calmly and matter-of-factly as if he just announced he were taking a stroll or reheating some coffee, an underlying, generous and misguided sense of 'it's a good idea, want in?' burbling beneath the surface. It's the surety not of someone who's never wrong, but of someone who never sits still long enough to appreciate what having been wrong means.
It's also someone who isn't taking the time to truly, deeply, meaningfully process that they're talking to someone clearly not human. It's not that Mac doesn't notice, it's just that, well, he can only keep track of so many concerns at a time and this entire experience has already filled slots one through twelve in his dozen lanes for concern, and "this dude's a robot" doesn't quite pass muster to overthrow "where the fuck am I?" and "who's going to tell me what's going on?" and "where can I get a drink around here?" and "when do I go home?". It's something Mac intends to put time and thought into L A T E R.
"I'm just trying to set off the alarm so the secret emergency exits light up. I've been stuck down here for hours, dude." It's been about twenty minutes, but Mac hasn't owned a watch in years. As with money and transportation, Mac's made an adult habit of mooching his sense of time from the people around him.
"You got anything that'll get good and smokey? Or, dude, do you have something that lights up in all that..." He gestures at Cayde's entire body. "You have a cigarette lighter or something?"
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It's also someone who isn't taking the time to truly, deeply, meaningfully process that they're talking to someone clearly not human. It's not that Mac doesn't notice, it's just that, well, he can only keep track of so many concerns at a time and this entire experience has already filled slots one through twelve in his dozen lanes for concern, and "this dude's a robot" doesn't quite pass muster to overthrow "where the fuck am I?" and "who's going to tell me what's going on?" and "where can I get a drink around here?" and "when do I go home?". It's something Mac intends to put time and thought into L A T E R.
"I'm just trying to set off the alarm so the secret emergency exits light up. I've been stuck down here for hours, dude." It's been about twenty minutes, but Mac hasn't owned a watch in years. As with money and transportation, Mac's made an adult habit of mooching his sense of time from the people around him.
"You got anything that'll get good and smokey? Or, dude, do you have something that lights up in all that..." He gestures at Cayde's entire body. "You have a cigarette lighter or something?"