Magnetism
by SMYGO4EVA
The markings of a Cityspeaker, being able to speak to the Metrotitans, and her convictions, and at first Chromia wasn't sure what to make of Windblade, but she was fascinated. Windblade was fond of her, as a friend and bodyguard, the fembot knew that much, but it did nothing to cool her interest.
What she finally decided was that Windblade was a contradiction. Which she liked, because Chromia liked bots who weren't simple, who were complicated. She enjoyed layers, the delicate task of teasing out the individual from all of the extraneous details.
Chromia was curious, despite her better judgment, so she asked. "The markings, speaking to Metrotitans," she said, and Windblade regarded her curiously, but she continued. "Those gifts, they are easy for you, are they not?"
"Yes, and no," Windblade replied, defensive, "The markings, yes, but, speaking to Metroplex, at times, no…"
"Ah," Chromia said, nodding in understanding. "I myself," she explains, "prefer combat,"
"Combat can be good, when necessary," Windblade inferred, thawing a little.
"In the right hands, it is an art," Chromia responded.
"Oh I believe it is," Windblade spoke, turning back to her datapad. She didn't look away from the screen she held when she asked, casual, "How is combat for you?"
"Oh," Chromia answered, more warmth in her vocal processor than she perhaps intended, "I am very skilled, and it helps as I am your bodyguard."
And Windblade smiled the tiniest, most subtle of smiles. "Maybe you can show me the ropes some time, to teach me something," she said.
"Yes," Chromia replied. She tilted her head, smiling back. "I'd like that."
It seemed that they discovered new things about each other every day, almost akin to magnetism each time.