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♥ Who: Magolor and eeeeveryone (who wants in)
♥ Where: Chillin' outside the housing complexes
♥ When: One fine day in the beginning of August/Achtom
♥ What: Everyone loves a good survey, and even if you don't, you're all getting one anyway.
♥ Rating: G, no warnings here
♥ Note: I'm happy to match your preferred format, so proceed as you wish!

[Could Magolor have done this over the network? Of course. Maybe people would have appreciated that more. But that's not how he chooses to go about this: over the network, he'll be easier to ignore, and that's no good. And over the network, he can't give anyone any earnest handshakes or touches on the shoulder to contribute to his bank account, I mean, the wellbeing of this planet! Praise Diacht!

So instead of ringing up the populace to ask for their input, he's doing this old-school.

Upon leaving their houses today, anytime between midmorning and late afternoon, any character is subject to being hunted down and approached by a perky little hovering alien with a clipboard and pen in his hands. He's pretty fast in waving people down, and pretty relentless:]

Helloooooo~! Won't you spare me just a moment? I promise not to keep you! You'll be glad you did. This is for the good of our community, and I can't do it without your help!

[He at least sounds and looks very earnest about this, like a bright-eyed canvasser on their first day on the streets.

Or maybe it's something else. Maybe you've seen him lurking out there for hours now and want to give him an earful, or like, a snack or something, which would be much appreciated. Maybe you have some bone to pick with him. The world is your oyster! He sure is making himself obnoxiously visible.]

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[Ib hasn't actually been in a house since early morning, mostly due to exploring and doing chores around the city for robots. That hasn't stopped her from buying things here and there since she also only knows basic kitchen stuff her mother had let her learn.

So, here is Ib with a bag with some bottles of a blue soda looking drink that actually tastes like lemonade and some neon bright colored fruits that at least taste like actual fruit. It's too much just for her, but it's clearly enough for her to share with a few other people before it likely will go bad. This is clearly the plan since she lights up on seeing Magolor out and about as she comes back to put some other things away.]

Good afternoon!

Helloooo Ib!

[Yesss, now here's someone he knows will understand. He waves at her brightly as she approaches. This time he's not assuming the snacks are for him—it definitely looks like she's been shopping, that's only to be expected, right—so it's the prospect of getting some good answers that drives him on here. No one's as honest and blunt as kids, right? Even kids like Ib? Well, she's helpful at least.]

You'll help me out, right? It's easy peasy! Looks like you've had a busy day already.

Of course I'll be happy to help!

[And then she's suddenly taking one of the bags filled with fruit and drinks and holding it to him.]

It was easier to buy more at one time then a small amount, but I don't have the room for all of it. Would you like to take some?

[Foooood! Food! He didn't even have to try for it! Magolor takes the bag and peeks inside it, ducking his head down to do so, which also serves to hide the tiiiiniest moment of being overwhelmed. It's one thing to be offered help when he's angling for it and playing up how helpless he is, and another to just . . . be offered it. The latter has been glancingly rare in his life.

He quickly looks back up at her again, though, with a perfectly normal happy smile, clutching the bag to himself.]

Really? For me? Of course I'll take it! I can't turn down your kindness! Thank yooooou! Taranza's really going to appreciate this, too. We're both useless in the kitchen!

[That's right, he's supposed to press her a little on that. Well . . . he'll see how he feels. It might happen naturally. Either way, they have food for now!]

Oh! Are you two helping one another then and being housemates? That's good, though I don't know how to help with the kitchen. Mother said I had another year before she would let me learn to use the stove and knives with supervision.

[She really does wish she could help with that.]

Do you think some of the others are helping with that? Like if we ask to help where we can they would cook things?

[He sets the bag down next to Will's tupperware, and his clipboard down on top of it; he doesn't need this yet. The survey can come soon. It turns out the conversation did wind around to this anyway, and Magolor wants to pursue it—a bit more gently than he might otherwise, having been touched by the gift.]

Well, how have you been managing so far? I assumed you'd have adults cooking for you whenever you needed, without you needing to offer much in return. But you're the kind of person who'd offer anyway, right?

[And now Ib is trying look anywhere but directly at him for a moment at the question being asked of her.]

I've been trying to not be a nuisance or bother anyone if I can help it. So I've been buying a lot of things that don't need to be cooked.

[Ah, he should have expected that from her. Maybe it's her success in this that's unexpected: he'd not responded to any of the queries about unaccompanied children on the network, not especially caring about the subject, but that hadn't meant he hadn't seen them. Enough of the adult humans seem to be concerned that he has to be a little surprised they're not smothering her with motherly home cooking and warm beds regardless of her own feelings on the matter, which are clearly more independent than that.

. . . He looks down at the bag she gave him . . . so, despite everything, she'd spent all of her own money on this, and now she's giving it away to him. He could hand it back. But feeling some level of shame about this at all is already around the apex of his emotional range until something gives on his end—and feeling enough of it to act on it is beyond that. But it gives him pause. And finally, he floats closer to her, hands outstretched in an invitation to a hug.]

Hey . . . come here!

[Ib for once actually hesitates when invited to make physical contact with Magolor. Even if it's only for a few moments. Holding hands was one thing, but she hadn't let anyone get too close to her rose since she got here, even if she talked about it openly to people. A hug meant it would be harder to get away, but it's Magolor and he has been one of the nicest people to her here without treating her like a doll that needed to be kept out of the way.

So she does step into the hug, but her posture is not as relaxed as when she holds his hand. Mostly in the fact that while she does lean into the contact, her own hands are more being used to hold her rose close to her.]

[The hug is awkward on his end, too, though he's doing his best—he's gentle with his hands, snuggling up against her side with his head against her shoulder. Considering the kind of sweet girl she is, he is a little surprised not to be hugged back, until he sees what she's holding onto there.]

Oh, I see. I'm not hurting it, am I?

[And her head pops up in surprise as she suddenly tries to assure him he didn't do anything wrong. She actually likes hugs, but she's so new to worrying about the rose she doesn't really know how to do this without worrying about it.]

No, I just don't really know how to do a lot of things now without worrying it will get hurt. Garry used to hold it for me if I had to do things and keep it safe. But, he's not here now so I have to figure it out now.

[Perhaps ironically, Magolor doesn't, and much of the awkwardness stems from his own discomfort with the contact rather than any worry for her flower. Still, he pulls back enough so that he isn't pressed up against her anymore, while leaving his hands on her shoulders so the contact still counts. He may not be saying it, but—if he does this, she'll make money too, and he can feel like he's paid her back for her groceries.

He tilts his head at the rose, considering.]

I get it. Flowers are pretty fragile, after all . . .

[Hmmm. The wheels turn in his head. Maybe this is another way he can pay her back—and, despite himself, he'd also be unhappy if something happened to her.]

How about this? I can make you a container to carry it in where it can't be crushed.

Do you think it would work though? The book wasn't really helpful when it talked about the rose. Though, I didn't understand some of the words either.

[If they could have done that Garry probably would have cried in happiness.]

Especially since we have to give it water if i get hurt as well..

[And because she's a lot more touch starved then she even realizes she's still leaning towards him and thus more solidly into his hands like a cat not wanting someone to stop petting them.]

That might be the big thing, since it gets hurt if I get hurt too.

[Hmmm. He lets go of her so he can grab his notebook and pen again, though he doesn't want to break the contact—so he just leans up against her side comfortably. And with the notebook flipped to a clean page, he begins to sketch something out, roughly. It looks something like this, although the bottle portion of it has a wide mouth and isn't disposable, and there are a couple of wire grills built into it that would help hold a flower upright by the stem, and holes in the top for air. He draws it as a crossbody strap with the jar hanging near the waist of a small human figure.]

Something like this . . . you could wear this over your shoulder and carry the flower in the jar. Nice and lightweight, but strong enough to hold up if you dropped it or fell on it, or something hit it! You could just remove the top any time you needed to water it. Well?

[Ah . . . it's been a while since he designed a product . . . even though something like this is worthless for profit, there's also a pure joy he hasn't felt in a while in just designing something he can make with his own hands to serve a purpose.]

[It's hard to really tell exactly what it is she's thinking as she leans in a little closer to him to see the sketch. She's still not used to anyone really asking her opinion like this. Even her parents had mostly done what they wanted regarding what is and isn't best for her as, parents do. Garry had really been the only one that seemed to actually worry about her opinion on something instead of just doing something and her having to politely go along with it.

Instead she does what she does best and focus on something else instead of her confusion on if she really is allowed to give her opinion on if she likes it or not for herself.]

You're really talented Mister Magolor! There must not be many things you can't do out there.

[Awwww yes, praise him! Praise him for his talents! He giggles with a hand pressed to his mouth, beaming. But he's not about to be humble about it. She's right, after all.]

You could say that! And I wouldn't argue. I'm a jack of all trades. Something like this would be easy for me to rig up using materials I should be able to get my hands on here without much trouble. So, if you like it, I'll get to work on it for you! Or I can refine the design if you need any adjustments.

[Magolor may be the way he is, but he is nothing if not genuinely happy about pleased customers and people appreciating his work.]

I, I don't really have anything to pay you with though for it. I don't want you to work so hard if I can't pay you. Father says we have to repay others for their hard work in whatever they make for us.

[And gone is the normal bright and confident child as Ib suddenly goes bashful. No one has ever wanted to make something just for her before. Her parents always bought something for her for her birthday and certain holidays.]

Well, you saved me on my grocery bills, for one thing!

[He waves his pen hand at the bag sitting on the ground. True enough; that had been his initial impetus for suggesting this in the first place. But it's not like there aren't other benefits:]

Besides, it's a part of any business. Think about it this way! If someone sees it and asks where you got it, you can say I made it, and then that person will know a little of what I can do. Maybe the next time they need something made, they'll remember my name and come to me. See how it works?

[Giveaways, incentivized reviews, promotional offers . . . he's starting from the bottom on another new planet yet again. Lance's birthday gift had already been a similar ploy. You've got to get your product out there and trusted before you can make money off it.

. . . And it makes him happy. But that's more personal and awkward. And she seems like a girl who will appreciate a "real" reason that isn't pure emotion on his part—or so he tells himself, not least of all because it's easier for him to deal with.]

You're doing plenty to help me out, so let me give you something too.

[There's still a bit of a frown, but mostly in confusion. Economics wasn't exactly something her parents thought a nine year old should start learning yet. So most of what he's implying doesn't really register for her outside of remembering a few times she was allowed to go with her mother to the shops and some were giving out free things.]

If that's what you want Mister Magolor, but, if you need me to buy something to help make it I'll be happy to do so.

Weeeeell, I'll keep track of the cost of materials, if that'll make you feel better, okay? I'll report back.

[It's just too hard to turn down money . . . he tried! He tried to be good! This is out of his hands now! No jury would convict him!

He hugs her side again quickly before pulling away to pack up, slipping his notebook into the grocery bag.]

I should get this stuff inside. I'll have that built for you just as soon as I get the time!

[Ib has done a lot of smiles since she got here and several of them had been towards Magolor. Now he gets a new version that is both bashful and grateful.]

Take however long you need Mister Magolor. I'm used to carrying it around like this so I'll be fine if I have to wait.

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