[Zenyatta almost bursts out laughing- but, fortunately for whatever dignity Bardo might have left, his self-possession gets the better of his giggles and he simply bows his head in what he hopes is a rather more modest display of amusement. A monk wouldn't stoop so low as schadenfreude.
Though, technically speaking, Zenyatta decides, he has not been a monk for quite some time.
That said, when Bardo accepts his hand Zenyatta does little more than rearrange him into what he has already learned is a fairly traditional hold, the fingers of one pair of hands laced while his other comes to rest on the subtle divot of his waist.
Light though his touch is, he can still appreciate the firm muscle beneath Bardo's clothes, strong in a way that he had not anticipated. As the music swells and he leads him away to a round of applause, Zenyatta looks curiously up into his face.]
You are lighter on your feet than I expected, my friend! Is it feline, or is it a talent you have nurtured yourself?
[ Dignity is vastly overrated— to be fair to Zenyatta, Bardo didn't have any to lose. The first few steps are bumbling, a flurry of half-shuffles that try to keep in time with his partner's easy poise (a cat trying to chase the shadow of a bird), but muscle memory eventually kicks in for the save.
The eventual dance is more practical than artful; a swordsman gracefully parrying his opponent's movements. Bardo's focus pinpoints, furrowing his brows until he's being spoken to.
A blink, and he relaxes to warm neutral again. ]
—Hm? Ahh, it must be a cat thing. I can't remember the last time I bothered dancing.
[ Half-truth, half-lie.
Now that he's less afraid of being a Complete Fool, he languidly tries to spin Zenyatta in a lazy arc. ]
What about you? [ Hm. How does he say this without sounding like a complete asshole? ] No offense, but I've never seen a 'human' before, let alone one made out of metal. [ Nailed it. ]
Edited (words... my mortal enemy) 2019-05-02 00:41 (UTC)
[Certainly Bardo's movements have a curious, practised kind of weight to them; though he is light on his feet, though his body learns each of his partner's daintier steps, he does not entirely carry himself as a dancer.
Nor is it entirely feline, despite Bardo's claims. There's reach strength in the arms that twirl him, the gesture made all the more effortless by the anti-gravity module that keeps Zenyatta an inch or two above the ground and renders each spin balletic.
It isn't quite enough to throw off his gyroscope, but he still holds onto Bardo just in case as it finishes- and laughs up into his face at his clumsy (but appreciated) attempt at sensitivity.]
Normally, he'd use the robot-with-AI explanation, but it sounds as if he might need to take a step back.]
I am an omnic: a self-sustaining machine, controlled by a computer so complex as to be self-aware, and thus almost indistinguishable from the human brain.
[Zenyatta would be surprised if he hadn't familiarised himself even in passing with computers during his time here. As he continues he steps forward, gently urging Bardo to lean backwards as he places one hand securely on the small of the man's back.]
You have seen the street cleaners here? I am an advanced version of that.
[ Ah, so Zenyatta really is going to lead. It's pointless to pretend to be bashful at this juncture, so Bardo only hesitates for a moment to make eye contact with the Prismal closest to them before he leans back.
A silent soak it up, buddy. Go on, immortalize this moment, make him famous. (Or don't, actually.)
Still, despite the fact that Bardo is a well-built 6-foot-tall catman being dipped by an omnic who's maybe half a head smaller than him, he feels secure in Zenyatta's grip. Even with his feet planted on the ground, Bardo feels like he's gliding; maybe it's secondhand antigravity. ]
—Yeah, I've seen the street cleaners. [ He manages, as he tries to make sense of the computers spiel. Zenyatta can probably see the cogs turning in the Ribika's head as he tries to parse some of the terminology. ] Sorry that I had to make you compare yourself to them.
[ Because, presumably, it must get incredibly old to have to go through this. An apologetic half-sound, and Bardo tries to reverse their positions. ]
Anyway, you're a better dancer than half the cats I've seen. Don't make me swoon too much.
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Though, technically speaking, Zenyatta decides, he has not been a monk for quite some time.
That said, when Bardo accepts his hand Zenyatta does little more than rearrange him into what he has already learned is a fairly traditional hold, the fingers of one pair of hands laced while his other comes to rest on the subtle divot of his waist.
Light though his touch is, he can still appreciate the firm muscle beneath Bardo's clothes, strong in a way that he had not anticipated. As the music swells and he leads him away to a round of applause, Zenyatta looks curiously up into his face.]
You are lighter on your feet than I expected, my friend! Is it feline, or is it a talent you have nurtured yourself?
no subject
The eventual dance is more practical than artful; a swordsman gracefully parrying his opponent's movements. Bardo's focus pinpoints, furrowing his brows until he's being spoken to.
A blink, and he relaxes to warm neutral again. ]
—Hm? Ahh, it must be a cat thing. I can't remember the last time I bothered dancing.
[ Half-truth, half-lie.
Now that he's less afraid of being a Complete Fool, he languidly tries to spin Zenyatta in a lazy arc. ]
What about you? [ Hm. How does he say this without sounding like a complete asshole? ] No offense, but I've never seen a 'human' before, let alone one made out of metal. [ Nailed it. ]
man fuck words who needs em
Nor is it entirely feline, despite Bardo's claims. There's reach strength in the arms that twirl him, the gesture made all the more effortless by the anti-gravity module that keeps Zenyatta an inch or two above the ground and renders each spin balletic.
It isn't quite enough to throw off his gyroscope, but he still holds onto Bardo just in case as it finishes- and laughs up into his face at his clumsy (but appreciated) attempt at sensitivity.]
Normally, he'd use the robot-with-AI explanation, but it sounds as if he might need to take a step back.]
I am an omnic: a self-sustaining machine, controlled by a computer so complex as to be self-aware, and thus almost indistinguishable from the human brain.
[Zenyatta would be surprised if he hadn't familiarised himself even in passing with computers during his time here. As he continues he steps forward, gently urging Bardo to lean backwards as he places one hand securely on the small of the man's back.]
You have seen the street cleaners here? I am an advanced version of that.
i need em to love zenyatta!!!!
A silent soak it up, buddy. Go on, immortalize this moment, make him famous. (Or don't, actually.)
Still, despite the fact that Bardo is a well-built 6-foot-tall catman being dipped by an omnic who's maybe half a head smaller than him, he feels secure in Zenyatta's grip. Even with his feet planted on the ground, Bardo feels like he's gliding; maybe it's secondhand antigravity. ]
—Yeah, I've seen the street cleaners. [ He manages, as he tries to make sense of the computers spiel. Zenyatta can probably see the cogs turning in the Ribika's head as he tries to parse some of the terminology. ] Sorry that I had to make you compare yourself to them.
[ Because, presumably, it must get incredibly old to have to go through this. An apologetic half-sound, and Bardo tries to reverse their positions. ]
Anyway, you're a better dancer than half the cats I've seen. Don't make me swoon too much.