[The laboratory sure is popular! Shang Qinghua waits till it's a quiet hour, then wanders in to poke at one of the computers lining the wall. He sits there, clicking on anything and everything he can hover over with the cursor. It probably makes for a highly anachronistic picture, what with his old-fashioned appearance.
Anyway, he's so engrossed in doing this that he doesn't pay attention to anyone who might be walking in. Good thing murders aren't happening today.]
[It sure is good that murders aren't happening today! Because Connor is totally waltzing up to him without announcing his presence until he's, like. Right there. Peering over him to see what he's doing.]
Shang Qinghua all but leaps out of his seat. Unfortunately, there's nowhere to go but forward, so he ends up throwing the mouse and uprooting the keyboard in his haste to rise. He also lets out a high-pitched shout, though his breath catches when he notices Connor.]
Connor will try to catch anything before it can be knocked clean off the desk, but. Hm. Though he'll later deny it, he sure does look frazzled by that response.]
—I apologize. It wasn't my intent to frighten you. [Holy shit, my dude.] Are you alright?
[Hm. So death sure happened! Connor will be exploring the temple once the initial hubbub has passed... mostly out of a pre-programmed need to find evidence that he knows isn't there. It's during his explorations that he runs across Shang Qinghua, and stops in order to greet him.]
Good morning.
[... There is literally nothing good about this morning, but. It's okay. It's fine.]
Shang Qinghua, too, has been roaming the temple as he often does, and stops when Connor greets him.]
Connor.
[He smiles, albeit with a hint of awkwardness behind the expression. Designation Connor, but that still strikes him as a little too familiar. He'll have to get used to it.]
I have not seen you in a while. It's good to see that you're still here.
[At some point during the afternoon, Connor will run across Shang Qinghua in the east wing. Specifically, smackdab in the middle of the carnival. He's quick to greet him as soon as he's able to get his attention.]
[Wherever Connor is beep brooding, Shang Qinghua is there. That wherever, it turns out, is the pool!
He vaguely remembers that this is where Luna hypothesized he might have escaped from during his stint as an octopus. He walks along the edge of the pool to where Connor stands.]
[Which is a vague answer, but. Hi. Hello. Connor is looking away from the fish tank once Shang Qinghau approaches, hands clasped in front of him. It's hard to tell how long he's been here, exactly.]
Hello, Shang Qinghau. Is there anything I can help you with today?
[It's fascinating, how sophisticated machinery is in other worlds that a creation like Connor can offer such human responses. Shang Qinghua glances at the tank.]
Actually, I have questions, if you are willing to answer them. Have you spoken with Great Piety recently?
[The West Wing is especially nice this week, and Connor's pretty delighted to see something that even vaguely resembles the technology he's familiar with. It's probably the reason why he finds himself drawn to the entertainment room in the inn... which is exactly where he'll be spotting Shang Qinghua.
Approaching him, he quickly greets him with the same, unerring level of politeness.]
Good evening. [Hi. Hello.] How are you liking our new accommodations so far?
[is this going to be sqh vs modern technology all over again.]
[Connor will walk in to the sight of Shang Qinghua bouncing in his seat on the couch, as if to test the elasticity of the furniture. Settling in place, he looks up with a courteous smile.
Hi. Hello!]
I've been a patron of many inns in my world, and none of them are like this. That viewing screen, what does it show?
[Though it's... a super old model. Connor refrains from pointing that out, given the fact that Shang Qinghua is practically prehistoric by his standards, but. He still tilts his head at it, thinking...]
Do you recall the "moving photographs" I spoke to you about several weeks ago?
[Connor's quiet when he walks into the pool room. Even quieter once he spots Shang Qinghua. This would normally be the part where he says something in greeting. Perhaps a hello, or a good evening — but there's nothing of the sort tonight.
Just a curt nod as he goes ahead and heads into the room, subdued.]
[Shang Qinghua is sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet dipped in the chlorinated water. The ends of his robes are gathered around his knees; his boots, propped on the floor at his side. When Connor enters, he glances over his shoulder.
The lack of a greeting doesn't surprise him. Not after what happened near the end of the trial.]
[Or, more like he just let his feet guide him and now here he is. He'll walk over to where Shang Qinghua is, not any less subdued now that conversation has been initiated.]
[Here he is on the fourth floor's conference room, discovering the wonders of the projector.
That's to say, he's somehow gotten it to turn on. He's also standing between the projector and the screen, so there he is—scratching his head and staring at the silhouette doing the same in front of him. He seems less confused, more amused.]
Connor. I was just thinking . . . This reminds me of an assignment I undertook as a young disciple, when my shadow moved on its own. There are no wailing spirits here, though.
We just might be able to end the week—and, by extension, the contest—without another death. Whatever happens tomorrow, I hope it doesn't change this outcome.
Week 1 - Monday
Anyway, he's so engrossed in doing this that he doesn't pay attention to anyone who might be walking in. Good thing murders aren't happening today.]
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Hello.
[HELLO.]
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Shang Qinghua all but leaps out of his seat. Unfortunately, there's nowhere to go but forward, so he ends up throwing the mouse and uprooting the keyboard in his haste to rise. He also lets out a high-pitched shout, though his breath catches when he notices Connor.]
H-hello . . .
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THAT SURE JUST HAPPENED.
Connor will try to catch anything before it can be knocked clean off the desk, but. Hm. Though he'll later deny it, he sure does look frazzled by that response.]
—I apologize. It wasn't my intent to frighten you. [Holy shit, my dude.] Are you alright?
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Week 2 - Friday
Good morning.
[... There is literally nothing good about this morning, but. It's okay. It's fine.]
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Shang Qinghua, too, has been roaming the temple as he often does, and stops when Connor greets him.]
Connor.
[He smiles, albeit with a hint of awkwardness behind the expression. Designation Connor, but that still strikes him as a little too familiar. He'll have to get used to it.]
I have not seen you in a while. It's good to see that you're still here.
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[And, like, not inside of a coffin. You know.]
Today's events have been... unfortunate. How are you feeling?
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Week 3 - Monday
Good afternoon. [Hi. Hello.] How are you today?
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[Yes, hello! Good thing he didn't get scared. Some of these booths offer darts.]
The morning's news was serendipitous. Fittingly, there seems to be a festival taking place here.
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[Though Fortune isn't faring too well now... At least nobody else died? You win some, you lose some.]
Have you been enjoying the carnival? It's very [uh] colorful.
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Week 3 - Sunday
He vaguely remembers that this is where Luna hypothesized he might have escaped from during his stint as an octopus. He walks along the edge of the pool to where Connor stands.]
Do you enjoy watching the fish, Connor?
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[Which is a vague answer, but. Hi. Hello. Connor is looking away from the fish tank once Shang Qinghau approaches, hands clasped in front of him. It's hard to tell how long he's been here, exactly.]
Hello, Shang Qinghau. Is there anything I can help you with today?
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Actually, I have questions, if you are willing to answer them. Have you spoken with Great Piety recently?
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Week 5 - Monday Evening
Approaching him, he quickly greets him with the same, unerring level of politeness.]
Good evening. [Hi. Hello.] How are you liking our new accommodations so far?
[is this going to be sqh vs modern technology all over again.]
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Hi. Hello!]
I've been a patron of many inns in my world, and none of them are like this. That viewing screen, what does it show?
[He gestures to the large TV.]
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[Though it's... a super old model. Connor refrains from pointing that out, given the fact that Shang Qinghua is practically prehistoric by his standards, but. He still tilts his head at it, thinking...]
Do you recall the "moving photographs" I spoke to you about several weeks ago?
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Week 5 - Saturday Evening
Just a curt nod as he goes ahead and heads into the room, subdued.]
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The lack of a greeting doesn't surprise him. Not after what happened near the end of the trial.]
Connor, are you here to see the fish?
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Yes.
[Or, more like he just let his feet guide him and now here he is. He'll walk over to where Shang Qinghua is, not any less subdued now that conversation has been initiated.]
Are you amenable to the company?
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Week 7 - Monday
That's to say, he's somehow gotten it to turn on. He's also standing between the projector and the screen, so there he is—scratching his head and staring at the silhouette doing the same in front of him. He seems less confused, more amused.]
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kind of
raising his eyebrows?]
Hello. [HI.] Am I interrupting something...?
[wyd, brick.]
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Connor. I was just thinking . . . This reminds me of an assignment I undertook as a young disciple, when my shadow moved on its own. There are no wailing spirits here, though.
[This and that are clearly related.]
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Week 7 - Friday
Connor, it's good to see you again.
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[On this beautiful, death free Friday...!]
How are you? It's look like we've finally received some good news for the first time in several weeks.
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We just might be able to end the week—and, by extension, the contest—without another death. Whatever happens tomorrow, I hope it doesn't change this outcome.
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