Not liking what he did to you doesn't mean that you're not his brother, or that you don't care about him.
[Prefect says, recites, almost. Like it's a rote he's learned to heart, and said a thousand times before, then his eyes slide sideways, and the smile drops from his face.]
Sometimes not liking Barron seems like a prerequisite for being his brother. He just ignores things he's uncomfortable with, so he usually won't admit that he notices.
[He shrugs, back to not quite looking at Cassel again.]
I didn't know them. I was raised to fulfill my function as a component piece if the infinite mechanics of the Factory. I guess-- at the time, Comrade, I would have said:
[His voice shifts, almost imperceptibly, and suddenly there's a brassy, mechanical enthusiasm underpinning the words, a hint of breathless talkshow host, or used car salesman:]
Blood is thicker than water, but red paint is harder to wash off! Why rely on the dispassionate bonds of your genetic code to dictate what matters to you? Who is your brother but the man who loves what you love? Who is your sister but she who shares a five percent reduced cost on matching purchases discount with you? Why should the fornication of strangers forge the bonds that tie your hands so? Shake off the shackles, and buy with me today! With the man who will be brother, cousin, and Comrade one and all under the nurturing glow of the infinite empire of your Factory!
[He speeds up as he goes, but his enthusiasm is wilted already. Like someone fast forwarding through a tape. When he's done, he shrugs again, looking tired.]
Spammm
[Prefect says, recites, almost. Like it's a rote he's learned to heart, and said a thousand times before, then his eyes slide sideways, and the smile drops from his face.]
Sometimes not liking Barron seems like a prerequisite for being his brother. He just ignores things he's uncomfortable with, so he usually won't admit that he notices.
[He shrugs, back to not quite looking at Cassel again.]
I didn't know them. I was raised to fulfill my function as a component piece if the infinite mechanics of the Factory. I guess-- at the time, Comrade, I would have said:
[His voice shifts, almost imperceptibly, and suddenly there's a brassy, mechanical enthusiasm underpinning the words, a hint of breathless talkshow host, or used car salesman:]
Blood is thicker than water, but red paint is harder to wash off! Why rely on the dispassionate bonds of your genetic code to dictate what matters to you? Who is your brother but the man who loves what you love? Who is your sister but she who shares a five percent reduced cost on matching purchases discount with you? Why should the fornication of strangers forge the bonds that tie your hands so? Shake off the shackles, and buy with me today! With the man who will be brother, cousin, and Comrade one and all under the nurturing glow of the infinite empire of your Factory!
[He speeds up as he goes, but his enthusiasm is wilted already. Like someone fast forwarding through a tape. When he's done, he shrugs again, looking tired.]
That was my family.