weboftime | IC Inbox

He doesn't turn his head towards Henry but his attention goes from him to the player. Then he'll reach out and click the 'play' button to see what music it is.

It's Elvis.

Something his parents would certainly not have approved of, which is a shame, because he's found he quite likes it.

"Do you know it?"

That's a nod.

"It's rock and roll, specifically, Elvis Presley. A very famous performer, one of the most famous." He turn to Henry. "Do you like it?"

"I think so," he finally admits. "Music is - odd for me." He recognizes that it's the only thing that cuts through his powers, at least the only thing he's found, but that doesn't mean he wants to reveal that information in this moment.

"We didn't hear much of it."

"Is it something you'd care to explore?"

Because he knows he has his taste, but no doubt the library has plenty.

"I was given a variety," he points out. "No need to explore outside of that."

"But the Elvis is what you liked best?" is what he takes from that.

"Yes, Jon," he says with a sigh. "Obviously. Why does that matter?:

"Because then I know what I ought to bring for you next," he says as if that should be obvious.

"To expand my horizons, yes," he huffs.

"Trixie brought me ice cream. This all seems like a theme."

"To let you try things that you might like," he says with a snort. Thankfully, he's to the point where that isn't so painful. "It's this strange situation where people like you... and want to give you things you might like."

"Because you all want me to have a link back to my humanity," he mutters. "I understand."

Oh, the eyeroll.

"No, for goodness sake," he says with a genuine huff of annoyance. "Offering you music is about something... you might enjoy. Ice cream is the same. There's nothing intrinsically human... about ice cream. Or rock and roll. Or anything else. We're literally just... offering you things... because we think you might like them."

A sigh.

"I understand where you got the idea... that any sort of... stimulus or gift was tied with a lesson. It's not rocket science. It's just not the case."

He's quiet again, staring at the ceiling.

"I didn't get gifts, Jon. My birthday and Christmas, yes. From family. But after? Every gift came with a catch."

There's a long pause before he nods.

"I realize that. Which is why I'm telling you: there's no catch, at least from me. I doubt there's one from Trixie. I can't speak for anyone else."

"I'm starting to believe that's true," he says, a little incredulous about that fact.

"But I hope you don't expect the same in return. I don't have anything to give you."

He shakes his head.

"I do what I'm doing because I want to. Not because I expect anything from it."

"I'm aware," he grumbles. "You are an outlier."

"Not nearly as much as you're probably assuming." Very wry. "I'll just be glad you're accepting it."

"If I didn't, you, or others, would simply force it on me."

He takes a deep breath and turns the music back on. "Stop talking," he says, actually attempting to not be unkind.

I would not.

He will bow to the request, as he's indicating, since the words just appear in his mind. But that seems to be all he needs to say for the moment. He's just going to listen to the music.

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