#Well. Disembodied AI... hm. I'm not sure

[kivaember]

some carla and walter ganymede stuff :) i like imagining how their relationship would've been like... (walter here is about 16-17)

-

"Did you get mauled by a rat in the night or what?"

Walter ignored Carla's amused observation, scrutinising the clipboard in his hands as he ticked off the components their recent client asked for. Most of them were thankfully stuff they had in their inventory already, but it was looking more and more like Walter would need to make a trip to the scrapheap and drag something back to dissemble.

"Hey."

Carla poked his cheek, her fingernail digging into a fresh cut and making him flinch with a quiet hiss. He finally turned to fix her with a cold glare, narrowing his eyes at her smug expression.

"There we go." She smirked, her eyes glittering impishly behind her glasses. "So?"

"So what?" Walter said curtly.

"What happened to your face?"

Walter clutched his clipboard tighter, unconsciously holding it like it was a shield that could deflect Carla's attention elsewhere. No dice. She looked at him expectantly, the curve of her smirk saying she knew exactly what had happened, she just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

He glowered sullenly.

"...I was shaving," he mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry? What was that? You know, I'm getting a bit deaf in my old age-"

"Shaving," Walter snarled. "I was shaving."

Carla visibly bit the inside of her cheek to stem a laugh, her eyes crinkling. Thankfully, she didn't laugh in his face, but there was a notable strain in her voice as she said: "W-With what? Sandpaper?"

Walter felt himself flush.

"It was my first time," he gritted out, and Carla finally started sniggering at him. "Of course it's not perfect. A few cuts are to be expected."

"A few- Walter, people are gonna think you got attacked by a rabid pack of raccoons!"

"Gaze."

"What?"

"A group of raccoons is called a gaze," Walter said stiffly, turning away from her and focusing intently on his inventory task. "Or a nursery."

"..." Carla shook her head. "What am I to do with you, kid?"

Walter ignored her, ticking off the last item. He'd need to go to the scrapheap for two items, which was okay. He could manage that in one trip if he could bribe Jacob down the street to let him use his truck and trailer for the day.

"Well, I suppose it's to be expected. It's not like you've got anyone to teach you," Carla mused. "I could ask Chatty to research shaving techniques and coach you for next time-"

"Chatty's a disembodied AI. He's not teaching me how to shave."

Carla opened her mouth, no doubt ready to defend her AI child's honour in the realm of shaving skills, but shut it after a moment. "Well- okay. Hm."

She rubbed her jaw in thought. Walter hooked the clipboard on the wall and turned to pick up his bag of scrapping tools.

"Well, I'll show you then," she finally said. "I know how to shave."

Walter slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to give her a questioning look.

"I used to shave this guy's face for him a while back," Carla said, her tone becoming oddly vague. "I'll be a bit rusty, but I'll know more than you, that's for sure. I did it for years, haha."

Walter said nothing for a moment, his expression going blank as he connected the dots. Carla had rarely mentioned him in the years he'd known her, but he knew that 'this guy' could only be her late husband - he'd overheard Dr Nagai discussing him one evening. Walter didn't recall much of the details, but Carla's husband had contracted heavy Coral poisoning from a C-Weapon test gone wrong - been reduced to a vegatative state.

It'd been something of an open secret on the Xylem. No one really talked about it, but people still made vague references to it, or did meaningful glances when specific topics came up. Carla just never spoke about it, and Walter knew - back then and now - he was not emotionally equipped to ever broach the subject with her. What would be the point anyways? It had happened and her brain dead husband was now physically dead too. Better to just leave it alone.

"Well, you can't maim me more than I've done already," he said, accepting the knock to his pride so long as it meant they waded far from those dangerously awkward waters. "Sure, why not."

"I definitely can't do worse than you, yeah," Carla scoffed. "Are you really going to go out looking like that?"

"We're missing things. I need to go to the scrapheap."

"Geeze, at least put on a mask or something. Say you've got a cold," Carla chided him. "You don't want any of those cuts to get infected. Might scar your pretty face."

"I'm not pretty," Walter grumbled, his cheeks turning a little pink.

"Oh, sorry, handsome," Carla teased. "Though boys can be pretty too, you know. I mean, it's to be expected. You take after your mother quite a bit and she was a knock out, let me tell ya. The Beauty of the Xylem, people called her, stacked to high heaven with hips that could-"

"I'm leaving," Walter declared, turning on his heel and stalking off, his tool bag thumping heavily against his hip from the speed of his movements.

"Have fun!" Carla called after his back. "Try not to get mobbed by your admirers!"

"I don't have any!"

Carla just laughed, in that loud, obnoxious way of hers.

Really. What a clown.