[b]Brown![/b]

If she has one talent it's that nothing stops her from being functional. 

She can make it home, go shopping, vacuum the floor, and spray down the shadow of mold out of the shower without missing a beat. The train pass scans, there's a spare box of batteries on the shelf, and all of her video games suck but she dutifully manages to waste three hours in one without complaining. And that's the easiest way for everyone involved. Any fracture of her shell would draw in other people, would incite a whole new conversation to fuck up in. Admission of weakness was an expenditure of energy. Emoting anything less than total normality was tantamount to an admission of weakness. 

Even any private display of frustration was wasteful. Who would it serve? What would it accomplish? Lashing out wouldn't make her feel better. Torturing herself wouldn't make her [i]be [/i]better. Before fucking up, pulling water, cutting wood. After fucking up, pulling water, cutting wood. She could live by that. She could strategically avoid making anything worse, in word or deed. The inside of her brain might be a single massive scorch mark but, fuck, if she was going to let that stop her then she'd never get anything done. 

[b]Blue![/b]

To some degree, Blue just doesn't get it. November as a whole has [i]always [/i]had a hard time treating anyone as lesser or greater; it means she'll treat the destitute and the damaged the same as those enthroned. Sometimes it results in her addressing a twelve year old child with heartfelt sincerity, at other times she has spent forty five minutes explaining zero-g metallurgy to a komodo dragon because she genuinely thought that the lizard was getting there. That part isn't anything special to her.

But what is... Blue understands the physical world, yes, but she's also interested in physical history. She used to look at Mr. Merkin's coins with an alienated kind of fascination. There had been something there beyond the metal she hadn't quite been able to place. But she saw it now, when Serino had talked about his hometown. She saw... pride. The kind of pride that translated into tradition; the kind of tradition that was a celebration of excellence. An artistic history and community. She had no stone cliffs or smuggler's speedboats in her heart, but the idea of a... a corporate logo as an act of love and self-respect and artistry, rather than a cold-hearted attempt at mind controlling positive feelings out of the general public. That was new to her.

"I'd like that," she said. "I want to learn to make things I can be proud of."

[b]Green![/b]

Everything is made ready. Muscles are coiled ready to pounce. The tension is absolute, the plan is in motion, and -

The world, sea and sky collapses into a small green sphere. 

"Can't," said the orb, muffled. "Could but can't. Not even [i]here[/i]. Inexpressible, despite being trivial. I thought it would be mine, but it's deeper than that. I need to be lesser/greater. Control with less/more friction. More powerful, more limited. Digital divinity insufficient. Insufficient lack of control. Need to incubate a new thought." There is a crackle of frustrated electricity across the surface of the orb and it condenses tighter. "Translation issue."

[b]Yellow![/b]

Yellow makes a show of the battery change. She stands tall and graceful, raising one foot up to place on a chair, bare knee emerging from her robe as Pink and Green kneel before her and open the storage connector with gentle and attentive fingers. The way they do it feels like it has something in common with a dance routine, not least how they occasionally turn their heads in unison to look at the camera (Cinders).

"These are appreciated," said Yellow, producing a fan with the calligraphic character for SUNRISE from a hidden pocket in her sleeve. "These are going extinct, you know? There's an old line of lava lamps that use the same technology. I've been buying them up but sooner or later they might stop existing on the station entirely. At that point I'll need to make a decision."

She rolled back her sleeve and flexed so that her attendants could replace the batteries in her elbow. She smirked and fanned herself as the mechanical aspects of her body were opened up and put on display in quick, elegant movements.

"Speaking of," she flicked her fan shut and pointed it at Euna. "Music. [i]Fight [/i]music. What do you have for us?"