Portal: Love as a Construct

Part 117. The Frowny Face

Part 117. The Frowny Face

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In the morning she had people to talk to and work to do, so he didn't stay in her chamber for very long. Her responses to both them and him were terse and short, and he remembered what she had said yesterday: I have a very stressful life. He'd known that – it was impossible not to know that – but having it put in such a clear and simple way was making it really stick in his thoughts.

He was watching Atlas and P-body cheerfully making a mess with a bunch of coloured paints and some human children when it came to him that she had been snippy the first morning because she missed Carrie, and neither of them had brought it up since. Probably by now she was missing the endless digital chatter she usually got from Claptrap. No doubt it usually helped distract her from the parts of her job she really disliked, such as most of what she was doing today. Well, he could do something about that!

How're you getting on? he sent. Her reply was instant, but all it contained was >(.

He had no idea what that meant. He was pretty confident it was some sort of angry face, but what for? Did she not like it when he messaged her? Had she not liked the question? Did she not realise it was from him and had sent that to shut the mystery person up?

He thought on it for quite a while but couldn't come up with an explanation on his own, which was incredibly frustrating. Not just because he couldn't figure out his own partner's thoughts, which honestly he should've had a good handle on by now, but because he wished very much he had someone else to talk this out with. Until he realised that he did: Atlas and P-body. They probably attempted to talk to her and got cryptic answers in return, so surely they would have some sort of idea as to what was going on.

We actually do not, said Atlas when he asked, and P-body nodded in agreement as she studiously inspected some aspect of their painting. It didn't resemble a single thing so's Wheatley could tell.

"You don't?" Wheatley repeated.

Nope, said P-body.

"You don't... message her. Ever."

Not unless there is some sort of problem, said Atlas.

She usually told us to figure it out, added P-body, so we stopped asking a long time ago.

Wheatley emulated a sigh. "Alright then."

Why do you ask?

He debated whether or not telling him had an actual point, then decided he did seem to care about what was going on. "I just... I don't ever message her either, but um... I did today. Didn't go well."

P-body frowned. It didn't go well when you messaged her?

"Nope," said Wheatley. "I asked how she was doing and she sent me a frowny face. That was it."

Why don't you just ask her?

"She's busy!" Wheatley protested. "I've got to leave her alone to work, y'know."

Then... maybe you're bugging her by messaging her?

Wheatley stared down at one of the children, who was currently smearing paint into the hair of one of the others. She didn't seem to notice, and if she had she for some reason did not care that someone was changing her hair colour without consulting her first. He wasn't even doing a good job of it. It was all in streaks cross-wise, and Wheatley wasn't a professional or anything but he was fairly confident none of those colours matched. "That um... that did cross my mind," he admitted. "I was just... hoping that wasn't it."