Welcome to Gaia! ::

These were the things that Dwight failed to mention, conveniently missing from their talk on the day when she received her CERN packet and his opportunity. These were the unpleasant duties forced upon her that she was so far above. These were insulting.

Those were the thoughts that crossed Mimsy's mind each time she faced the task of tending to the minipets instead of experimenting on them; the rows of specimens, a hundred beady eyes and mounds of fur and tangled tentacles. She was a genius and a scientist and not a groomer.

And she was throwing a mental tantrum about it, as always, a sour look on her face.

Some of the others had favorites among the creatures, which she thought was a very foolish thing to do. Her associates in the laboratory had been the same way, before she came here - the rats had names, imagined personalities. Lives. It was always so curious to her that they used such a thing to cope when they ultimately took those lives away.

Still, there was one that she always tended to first. Not a favorite, but a priority, which she had already gravitated towards. She removed the hooded Deus Ex foxfire from its cage and cradled it safely within one arm, firmly enough to hold onto it in spite of its excess of fur, and blinked down at it.

The foxfire blinked back, a glimmer in its eyes.

The sound of a voice did not startle her; it was typical for someone to join her in here at some point during her task, but this specific voice was quite unexpected. A smile quirked at one corner of Mimsy's mouth as she looked down at the foxfire, because she would not smile at Sasha.

"No, I did not know. I apologize, if I was supposed to. I admittedly do not generally make a habit of gathering information that is not beneficial," she murmured, watching the minipet's eyes move back and forth between the two of them, feigning an interest in joining her in petting it to discretely tug at its fur each time it looked away.

(It was beneficial information.)

"Hm, no. I am afraid that I must disagree. Precious is not really the correct adjective, is it?" Favorite. Precious. Soft, weak words that felt so out of place here, while they stood so close together. She didn't move. The intrusion rose a suspicion, and she would not risk appearing to roll over for her.

"Why is it your favorite?" Her fingers curled into its fur, worming her way towards its little body. "Perhaps you might enlighten me in regards to the appeal. They seem much too temporary. What would you do if it perished, for instance? Mourn it? Select another?"

Her fingertips found its neck. She pressed gently, testing how much its flesh would give beneath her touch. It was such a fragile little thing.

But nothing was comparable to the original, anyway.

As the foxfire's head was pulled back and forth, it tried to move its body to match the motions, squirming uselessly within her hold. Mimsy's eyes flashed with irritation, redirected at the minipet once more.

This creature was in her care, in her arms, and Sasha assumed that she was allowed to manipulate it. The most sensible of thoughts that shoved themselves to the front of her mind was to put it back into its cage. The least was filled with actions that would be unfortunate for at least one of them. Would it not jeopardize her, she would have done the worst of them without question. She would not have stopped until she felt that Sasha understood the consequences of what she had done.

Disgusting.

"Temporary." She tested the word on her tongue in much the same way that she had with the foxfire, weighing it, determining how far she could press before it broke. "Yes. That is more apt. Many people select temporary favorites."

Mimsy finally smiled at her, practiced and crooked in a way that made it seem as if it was seconds away from becoming a sneer. It was just the way she smiled regardless, but at this moment, it fit.

"Oh, I see," she breathed out, glancing back down towards the foxfire. "Fond. Do you mean 'temporary' again, or do you mean to imply that you feel affectionately towards the most impressive Doctor whose likeness is reflected upon this creature?"

She tilted her head towards Sasha.

"I do not intend to pry, if you feel uncomfortable. I wish simply to ensure that my information is correct."

A sharp snort of an exhale was the only response that Mimsy allowed herself to Sasha's mention of the responsibilities that she had been given. Of course she felt envious of her; she would have been incredibly honored to be entrusted with tasks from him, and all of her work was always done so diligently with him in her mind. The pedestal that she had placed him upon, however, was one built of professional merit, and it had never been to her benefit to be so destructively jealous of a coworker when her goal was one within the workplace. She found that simply exercising her talent more efficiently worked much better.

She believed that it did, at least, because she held unwavering certainty of her surely superior intelligence.

"You should take more care to keep your effects close to you," she helpfully suggested. "Clearly, as someone who feels affectionately towards him, you know that there are much more important things for him to attend to. It is not at all impressive to retrieve a box from France - you are dampening his excellence. What a nuisance you must be."

Her brow furrowed into a pitying look, before she turned to busy herself with another cage next to them, the foxfire still tightly cradled in her arm.

"Yes, Robert Morris is mine," she corrected, because there was a difference. "He is not a teddy bear, and your observational skills are atrocious."

Briefly, she weighed the consequences of her intended actions. Speaking the words that she wanted to would absolutely hold a specific risk that she wanted very desperately to avoid, but she was confident.

Tragically so.

"And oh, a long time ago." She fiddled with the tag and reference sheet on the cage, cleared her throat, and flipped open the latch. "He was very naïve, wasn't he? A long, long time ago, he also loved Petra so monumentally much that he married her. It seems that he has accrued quite a list of mistakes. No matter. I fixed that. I taught him a correct set of guidelines, and he is better now. Though...I suppose that you would already have surmised that, were your skills of reasoning more advanced, simply judging from the fact that he is with me and not, well, the woman that he loved for the vast majority of his life before he learned of my existence."

As she tapped the side of the cage, something stirred within it. The foxfire made a sound that might have been much more intimidating if it had made it through its excess of fur.

"I am not particularly fond of doughnuts, anyway. What Robert has given, and continues to give me, is much more lasting than carbohydrates, but I understand how you might have assumed that mentioning them might have made me envious, considering your outdated research. You have been reminded of my existence, so I expect your information to be adjusted as necessary. I do apologize for the fact that he will no longer be delivering them to you. Perhaps you could request for the Doctor to retrieve them - I am sure that his inconceivably brilliant mind will not tire of running errands for a clumsy girl who is too absentminded to keep everything together."

There was no sign of mockery in her expression when she fell silent, then stared at her a moment longer. She blinked once, paused for just another instant, then dispassionately dropped it into the other cage. The minipet inside looked hungry, glowing a brighter blue as it advanced upon the foxfire.

"Oh no."

All of the indicators that she had caused Sasha to react in any way other than her giggle were entirely missed, as Mimsy opted to focus her attention on the minipets in the cage. Each time the outmatched foxfire stumbled, or let out a little yelp, more cages on the far end of the room began to rattle.

"I have trained a human," she corrected again, speaking as slowly and clearly as she possibly could, confused over the apparent lack of understanding. "It was not a particular accomplishment. I found it surprisingly simple, in fact."

Fond. Graciously kind. She tilted her head to the side, musing over the possibility that they might be talking about two entirely different men. One of the many significant reasons that she admired him the way that she did was an absence of things like that. She was still compelled to fake those sorts of interactions - he was not. Sasha had not spoken with conviction, choosing 'think' over 'know', and its factual basis was shaky at best. Instead of chancing somehow being wrong, she filed the questions away for later and moved on, unwilling to take the bait without confidence in her information.

"Mm, no." It was a comfort to hear that she would find no use in Robert, but trusting her words alone seemed foolish. Though her eyes were still turned towards the cage, they were unfocused, distant as she sifted through possibilities. "No...you would not. What makes him an optimal candidate for me would make him worthless to you."

With a blink and a hm, she turned back towards Sasha, brows raised.

"Oh...did I give the impression that I was concerned that you might try to take him from me? I must apologize again. I do not feel threatened in the slightest; he is the captive, but I obtain what I need without provoking him to want for freedom. He will be here as long as I need him to be." She shrugged. "Then he won't."

Not to be outdone, she shifted towards Sasha, arm pressing firmly against hers. The tiny kaijuu opened its mouth wide and extended a tonguelike appendage from the depths of its throat.

"I avoid indulging speculations about feelings. He might feel sorry for me. If I recall correctly, he did seem quite surprised when he learned that I do not have friends. I was stubborn in my insistence that relationships are colossal wastes of time for a minimal gain. But he feels many things. He is welcome to feel sorry for me, despite my inability to know why he would want to." Her face scrunched up a bit as she thought. Feelings were still shrouded in complexity and assumptions. "If I feel special, he is not some singular entity that provides it. Were I to choose one person, I would apply that to myself. Still, my exceptional intelligence is not the most exceptional in current existence. I am young, and I still have much to learn - but there are few who are in the position to teach me. There is one on this island. I presume you can infer who."

The look she gave her implied that she kind of doubted that she could infer who.

"As for...well. I say that he will not leave me for someone else. My algorithms assure me that it is statistically improbable that he would be exposed to anyone who would present themselves as better suited for his needs, as long as I still need him." She smiled as the little kaijuu withdrew its tongue, seemingly satisfied with the information it had acquired, and stood very still as it prepared itself to strike. "I already mentioned my thoughts on hypothesizing about the specific feelings of a person, and Petra is no exception. I am quite certain that she did not think like I do, however. If she did, she would not have so carelessly allowed her domesticated human become a stray."

Snap went the jaws within the cage.

"You do have to be careful about that, you know. The moment that you seem at all expendable..." A blue burst of light illuminated the cage as the minipet appeared to belch in the wake of its meal. She smiled. "You will be."

"Yes, he is." The first outward sign of envy escaped, evident in the curl of Mimsy's lip, petty in its disapproval. "There is so much to learn from him. I feel confident in saying that it is more than either of us could learn in a lifetime, considering the ever-growing state of his boundless knowledge. Even attempting to learn it all would be a position in itself, and it would not be terribly useful if it were not in practice, would it?"

The minipet settled in to nap after its satisfying meal, and she idly drummed her nails against the edge of its cage. It didn't seem to take notice. She pretended to watch it as she debated how much she minded sharing that knowledge with another 'student'.

(A lot, it seemed.)

"You must forgive me if I place no value in the supposed merits of genetic or blood relations. You remember, don't you?" She almost smiled, breathing just a little deeper as the memory flooded her mind, the memory of the blood of family on her tongue. Of its warmth. Of its taste. "I suppose I must be useful to someone, if I am still here after that."

The motion Sasha made to press even closer was an unexpected one, and Mimsy scolded herself for not seeing it as the logical next step in this progression. She swallowed regret and buried her desire to back down, and watched her with the most empty stare she could maintain. This has happened before, she reminded herself, ignoring the differences in reasons and people and circumstances. She managed then, and could manage now.

"Do you like this?" Her voice was low, steady, and unamused as she folded her hands in front of her, prim and proper. "Do you enjoy touching me? Does your pulse accelerate for doing this when I have not permitted you to?"

After chancing a clinical glance towards Sasha's neck, she returned her cold eyes to hers.

"That is why you are doing this, correct? It is not quite the right gesture for a simple curiosity...and my physical appearance is undeniably far from irresistible...and I have given no indication that I am even capable of a state of arousal, so...that is why, is it not? To prove something to me? To yourself?"

She stood very still, each breath in and out carefully calculated, timed with precision to be neat and even. Thinking this much about breathing made her feel faint. It was worth the gamble, despite the potential consequences, to keep this semblance of control. This body was hers, and she refused to allow this moment to provide any evidence to the contrary, even accidental.

"Whatever the case, I will allow you to take what you need right now, just once. I will feel no pleasure. I will feel no disgust. There will be only pity for you, for the fact that you feel such a need to touch - and be touched, presumably - that you cannot leave it out of our place of work."

Svensyl's voice was almost deafening in her mind, but she ignored him to hold her head high. She had gotten so far off track with his encouragement, lost deep into the rabbit hole of a science that remained unproven, chasing something that only she seemed to see.

Now was not the time to humor him. It was not the time to humor anyone.