OOMM: Data and River in London

[ol_yellow_eyes]

[OOC: Continued from here.]

It had been going so well.

What started as a casual evening stroll through Highgate Cemetery in 19th-century London somehow turned into a flight for their lives. Data did not know why they were running, only what they were running from-- three rather large human males, who seemed quite angry about something. He had also caught glimpses of weapons in their possession, namely a pistol and what seemed to be a horsewhip. (He might have wanted to observe them more closely if he had not been so concerned for River's safety.)

She knew the city better than he did, and she was the one who suggested they take advantage of the city's sewage system.

And that is how they ended up here.

Data turns to River finally. "Now that we are no longer in immediate danger, may I ask why those men might have been pursuing us?"

Comments

[hell_in_highheels]

River reaches up a hand and catches him by the notch in his uniform tunic, pulling him down until he's eye to eye with her. It isn't that much of a stretch to lean up and catch his mouth in a soft kiss, not precisely chaste, but not overly intrusive either. It lingers long enough to defy classification as a peck, but not much longer than that.

When she speaks, her voice is pitched low, a husky tone that betrays a certain amount of arousal.

"It wasn't awkward, and it certainly wasn't difficult, Captain.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data blinks a couple of times in surprise at her kiss, but then closes his eyes and settles into it, just as it is ending. He does not pull back very far, and his gaze flickers around her face for a few quiet moments, memorizing it, taking it in.

"You should change," he mentions. But he does not immediately move to give her room to do so.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her pulse rate skyrocketed in the moments under his gaze, and a million capillaries dilated, making her cheeks flush with colour. Her pupils widened, and her irises grew dark, flush with blood. She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side.

"You're not the first person to say that, but I assure, my nature is quite ingrained." The quip is punctuated with a cheeky wink.

"But you're right." She finally lets him go, and without any sort of attempt at shame, she starts unbuttoning her blouse.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data straightens, but his gaze lingers on River a few seconds longer than his etiquette program indicates is polite. He finally distracts himself by kneeling to replace the first aid supplies he removed back into the medkit.

The rate of his pulse-- if one can call it a "pulse"-- has increased quite significantly. His external temperature is higher than normal, though there is no discoloration that would indicate a flush. But his mental processes are running at an unusually fast rate, as he ponders all of the possible signs of arousal he has noticed in River. This is the part he still has difficulty with... He can read the signs, but he would still prefer it if he had some sort of instinct he could rely on...

He pauses after closing the medkit. He is still politely averting his eyes despite their relatively close proximity.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Thank you," she says, slipping the wet garment off and letting it fall to the floor. "My head is feeling much better now." Her fingers take their time working the button of her trousers. That undone, she bends to start unlacing her boots.

She has curves. Curves upon curves. She is a woman in her prime and it shows.

"Didn't know your programming included a modesty algorithm." He's learning to recognise that saucy lilt in her voice as an affectionate tease.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data is not feeling ambitious enough to appreciate her curves, just yet. He lets his gaze wander inconspicuously upwards only as far as her calves, and stops. He puts the medkit back into the leather bag exactly as it was, and gets up to replace it underneath the bed.

"It does," he replies, his back turned. "I did not have it originally, I was told, but apparently it became necessary." He stops there, noticing a small surge of the emotion he has come to know as embarrassment. And suddenly he wonders why he told her that.

Now that the medkit is back in its proper place, Data stands up again, not quite sure what to do with himself.

[hell_in_highheels]

Out of her boots, River stands, still a bit wobbly, but not much, and begins to work her trousers down over her hips.

"Body modesty is such a quaint custom, I find. Too many years working in subtropical regions, I suppose. It's all right. You can look if you like."

She knows she's making him uncomfortable, but she gets the sense that sometimes he needs to be shoved bodily out of his comfort zones.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data only hesitates for a few seconds after that, turning halfway at first, then stepping to face her completely.

And he looks.

She is beautiful. All organic life is beautiful, he thinks, in a way that is natural and flowing and imperfect, but he cannot miss the fact that River is a fine specimen of her species. A woman in her prime, indeed-- her curves indicate every traditional ideal of fertility and sensuality. Grace and confidence seem to radiate from her in a way that his senses can almost detect physically, and it is clear to him that she is just as comfortable with his gaze as she had implied.

It is probably impossible to tell that this is what he is thinking, however. He has not moved; he is simply looking, with an expression that is perhaps unreadable.

[hell_in_highheels]

River is excellent at reading faces, and it is utterly impossible to tell what he's thinking.

She knows that she's still awash in river filth, and painfully aware of the bit of dried blood in her hair. Nevertheless, he's a big boy and if he has a problem with her nudity, she trusts he'll say something. She bends and fishes her sonic screwdriver out of the pocket of her trousers, and uses it to heat the water in the pitcher on the side board. She pours the now steaming water into the basin, and wets a face cloth, wringing it out.

Her eyes close as she wipes her face and throat, and he can hear her sigh, long and drawn out.

"Remind me never to play cards with you."

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data blinks at that, and he looks more alert. "I beg your pardon?" He has not made the necessary connection.

It is possible that he might have, if he was not so distracted.

(His eyes had been following a drop of water that started to slide beneath her collarbone.)

[hell_in_highheels]

She turns her back and addresses his image in the mirror. One hand draws her hair up off her nape so she can wash her neck and shoulders.

"You play your cards very close to the chest. Humans tend to communicate all the time, a never ending stream of information, 90% of it non-verbal, even when they don't know they're doing it. You?"

She smirks at him and gives a little headshake, hands rising and wringing out the cloth.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"I am more conscious of the forms of non-verbal communication I am displaying at any given time," Data admits. "Not completely, however, if I am not choosing to monitor them. And there are some functions I cannot consciously control."

His pulse rate, for example. Or the fact that the average duration of time between the blinks of his eyes has become noticeably shorter. Or that even his breathing is slightly faster, as his systems try to regulate an increase in temperature.

"In regards to what humans communicate, it does not give me as much of an advantage as one might assume. I do not always interpret the signs correctly." There is something almost vulnerable in his expression as he makes this observation, like it is more of a question.

(But River may notice that his gaze is not quite directed at her face in the glass. It is slowly tracing the curves of her neck and shoulders, like a paintbrush trying to capture them on a canvas.)

[hell_in_highheels]

She is noticing. It's the first hint she's had that he's paying attention. She continues her ablutions, her movements slow, almost dreamlike. Careful certainly because of the thrashing she's taken, and yes, she has the bruises to show for it, but there's something else there.

"Yes, we're very complex machines in our own right, aren't we? But I think you understand us far more than you give yourself credit for. And besides," she turns to look at him over her shoulder, "part of the allure of such interactions is the uncertainty."

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"I have heard that," Data says, rather slowly.

"But I assure you, I am somewhat inept when it comes to deciphering human body language. I do not have the instinct that most humans seem to possess.

"I would guess... that you are probably better at reading people than I am..."

His eyes have slipped somewhere down by her waist at this point.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Possibly." She turns back to the mirror, twisting her hair up and tying it into a knot. She enjoys watching him look, as if the mirror gives them both an illusion of privacy. And it's clear she's in no hurry to finish bathing.

"But then, I have the advantage of being born to it."

She shifts her weight to one leg, one hip dropping as she lifts her foot to balance on just her toes, the other hip extending to counterbalance, a classical posture that makes her look like a Greek sculpture.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

She may notice Data's head twitch slightly. A look of confusion crosses over his face, as he tries to figure out if there was some reason she shifted position in that way.

He does not get very far with his analysis, however. Both because he does not have enough information and because he is still distracted. (He does far too much painting, he realizes. He should really endeavor to explore sculpting processes more fully sometime...)

His mouth is slightly open for a few moments before he speaks again. "But you say you have difficulty reading me?" He manages to bring his gaze back up to her face by the end of the sentence.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Yes," she sing songs a bit, washing her arms now.

"I can't tell if you're just curious about the female form or if you're aroused. The latter is a bit of a stretch to assume, but seeing as your form is human, and everything I've seen of your behaviour is based on a standard human template, I can't help but wonder if whoever created you saw fit to include courtship and reproductive behaviours as well."

She's an archaeologist by profession. The degrees in anthropology, sociology and psychology are all adjunct to that.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

River's observations give Data more information, though perhaps not as much as he would like. He knows that she is curious now, but he does not want to assume the reason.

(He has a theory, regarding human "instinct." He sometimes wonders if it is associated with the phenomenon known as "wishful thinking," if perhaps humans seem to know what others are thinking simply because they happen to want the same thing at the same time.

At this moment, he is wondering if a similar thing is affecting his systems as well.)

"I am not... capable of reproduction, in the biological sense," Data notes. "But I have been programmed in a broad variety of... pleasuring techniques..."

He still has not answered the question she is wondering about.

...Or has he?

[hell_in_highheels]

That gets a little chuckle from her. "Pleasuring techniques. How very clinical, as if you might need them to earn passage off planet when you're without other resources."

She's still watching him in the mirror, her eyes sparking with mirth.

"So you're capable of giving pleasure -- sexual pleasure, so we're clear on the subject -- but are you programmed to have an emotional response? Do you experience attraction and fascination? Do you get aroused?"

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"I..." Data stops, actually having to take a brief moment to think about how to answer the question.

"I am programmed with appropriate emotional responses," he tells her. "I have always been quite fascinated with the experience, and I would even say that I have been attracted to people." Not often, but it has happened. (Now, for example.)

"I am not certain that I would classify what I experience as 'arousal,' however, since much of arousal is based on physical pleasure. My systems are designed to simulate certain physical responses, but it does not feel like anything in particular to me."

She may notice that he is on the verge of babbling again; he has started talking faster, instead of pausing periodically like he was a few moments ago.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her brow furrows and she turns towards him just a bit.

"Wait, hold on a moment. You don't feel physical pleasure?"

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"That is correct," Data answers. He looks a bit curious as to why she might be asking.

[hell_in_highheels]

River blinks rapidly, turning fully and resting one hand on her hip. She's gone from seductress to engineer in a heart beat.

"Is it a signal degradation issue? Or is it that your neural net has limiters?"

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"The signals from my neural network are not processed as pleasurable or painful," Data explains. "They were not designed to do so. The connections between my nerve endings and my central processing unit are inadequate for transmitting that type of information."

[hell_in_highheels]

"Bollocks. Why on earth would someone build you with all the right equipment, only forget to hook it up to the network? That's just..."

She's already turning back to the table, and retrieving the small device again.

"This is a sonic screwdriver. It's Time Lord technology, and if you'd permit me, I'd like to take a look at..." Again her voice tapers off, and she stops just in front of him, one hand on her hip, naked as the day is long.

Her expression softens and she rests a hand on his arm.

"Listen to me. Asking to see your interior without so much as a by your leave. Captain. Data. I find that I'm fiercely attracted to you, and I think, I mean I thought I was getting that you felt the same way. Only, if you can't feel pleasure, I don't believe I could, in good conscience, use you for my own nefarious purposes. It would be greedy and selfish of me."