It's the anniversary. Glam would very much not like to celebrate.
It’s their last day on Winslow High—they’re being transferred to Arcadia on Monday—and also their last day without a patrol schedule assigned.
And the PRT released a small announcement on its website about Glam joining the Wards. Now their wiki page doesn’t get erased, of course—they’re no longer speculative. They wonder what it’s got on them.
"Is that why you're so eager to be continually accompanied by a robot that reports to me and whose armaments you have no information about."
"It wasn't but now that you point it out, it is a very large part of the current reason."
"If you want me to give it scary bits next time I upgrade it..."
"Should I not be encouraging this while in a state of," handwave, "not?"
"Oh." Ponder. "Well. I mean. It's kinda the next best thing? And I won't say it doesn't make me hopeful, but at the same time unless you personally dislike..." Handwave. "Causing these things, or I'm acting in some way that makes you uncomfortable, I don't see the harm. I expect I'll be the first to know—well, maybe the second, if you count your AIs—when slash if you change your mind, so in the meantime I get to enjoy your presence and personality and all that entails."
"So I may help myself to arbitrary amounts of flattery and you will not write angry rants on the Internet about my reprehensible behavior."
"Oh. That's. Very dumb. Why—why would anyone even do that? That is not how crushes work."
Chevalier comes up to them and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. "You two should take in the party. Talk to some people. On your best behavior," he adds.
Glam's robot jumps on their shoulder, once.
Lorica salutes - it's hard to tell if she's doing it ironically - and goes off into the crowd.
On the way there, though, they murmur to the robot, "So you like lots of flattery. That's good to know."
"It'll get you everywhere, didn't you know?" the robot whispers back.
And look, rich people eating hors d'oeuvres! They should talk.
Later: "Hey Lorica?"