Rehumanize Yourself
I work all day at the
factory
I'm building a machine that's not for me
There must
be a reason that I can't see
You've got to humanise yourself
Batou x Motoko
He was a tall, big boned man a few inches above six foot framed at 150 lbs. A typical Japanese man with messy black hair and dark sculpted features. His height and built hinted of his European ancestry, as did the sharp eye color contrasting his hair and face. Both hands were pocketted into a loose pair of denim slacks, white tank peeking under the heavy leather coat. He watched the woman opposite of him, offering a mischievious smile.
"So, Major… It seems you were a redhead at one point."
"Tea-colored, thank you. Purple isn't a genetic trait." The woman smirked, hand at her hip as she regarded the other man, "Blue eyes aren't becoming of you, Batou."
He only shrugged, leather crinkling as his shoulders raised, "Can't control what you are born with."
"It's funny…" Motoko began, tracking through a hallway fabricated by wires and nerons, Batou following her with his eyes, "How the net can be so deceptive yet reveal the truth under layers of prosthetics and alterations."
He could only smile, "Don't tell Ishikawa."
Major stopped at that, digesting his words. Then, she returned to her steady trail, heels clicking into the glassed floors, "What is there to tell?"
Batou shook his head and followed after her. Even on the net, he was satisfied trailing behind.