York ran a hand through his dark hair, still slick from the recent shower, to clear it from his eyes. Craning his neck, he ran the green disposable razor along the underside of his jaw with careful precision to keep from cutting himself. He managed despite the pregnant time between now and his last shave, leaving smooth, clean skin in its wake. The last of the shaving cream disappeared, signaling the completion of the final bit of terrain to clear - his jaw was now free of all stubble.

“What do you think, D?” he asked, the question posed to seemingly no one until the small, green figure projected itself from the helmet resting on the back of the nearby toilet.

“I am not sure I-” But York intercepted the statement, already knowing where it was headed.

“Come on, D. You’re my left side,” he smiled, turning more towards the Artificial Intelligence unit to give a better view of his new face. He hadn’t shaved by choice but recent events made him decide it was time for a change - a big one. Shaving seemed like the closest thing he could get to, “I’m only getting half the picture without your input.”

“Understood,” he replied in the same formal voice he always used when reacting to a command. Despite this, it seemed like the agreement should have been accompanied with a sigh but he refrained. The small hologram stood for a few minutes, “Can you turn to your left?”

The freelancer complied.

“And your right?”

Again.

“Your left again.”

Again.

“Your-”

“D!” he shouted, but it wasn’t really a yell so much as a pathetic attempt at desperation to convince his partner to stop, “Is it really that bad?”

“I was simply trying to see it from all angles to give the optimal assessment,” he explained.

York shook his head, causing dark strands to fall into his hazel eyes, the left subtle fogged with a cataract. A smile still held his expression, making the small hole for his lip piercing disappear at the edges of his mouth.

“I don’t want an assessment, D, I want your opinion. You like it or not?”

The AI hesitated again, his helmet still tilted up towards the freelancer’s face. He was silent and still as he thought and York reached down, picking up his helmet to lift the other to his height. The AI could have done it on his own but he usually needed to have the initiative presented for him. Delta moved forward, walking on invisible ground to get a closer look at the change. In all the time they had been together, he had grown quite used to the various alterations his host made to his body. However, most of them had been in the line of piercing or tattoos - so this change was a little different to asses.

“Your scar is considerably more noticeable,” he stated flatly, stepping backwards a few paces like a person admiring their work from a new distance.

“D…” he started warningly.

“But,” Delta continued, “I approve.”

Knowing it wasn’t going to get much better than that, York nodded and returned his helmet to its temporary resting place. He lifted the edge of the towel hanging around his neck to clean away the remaining shaving cream and ruffle some of the moisture out of his hair. The AI retreated from sight as his host finished his morning routine and remained as such until he was in his bedroom. York caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging uselessly on his wall as he finished pulling up his pants. Fingers ran along the newly shaved jaw, adjusting to the unique and strange feel of smooth skin.

“It’ll take some getting used to, that’s for sure.”

Delta was right, the scar was far more obvious with a clean, shaven face. It was still recent but he’d quickly decided that he wouldn’t hide it for multiple reasons. The biggest was the fact there was really no point in it; Delta was the only one who saw him without his helmet. And he wasn’t ashamed of it…or was so ashamed he realized he deserved to have it on display for the rest of the world to see. He hadn’t really decided yet.

Well, D to see, he mused with an audible chuckle. Somehow knowing only D could see it bared the same weight as ‘the world’. Probably because D is my world these days. I don’t have much going on outside the two of us anymore. Now that I’m an ex-freelance, anyway.

He stood up, walking over to the mirror to squint at himself more closely. His tattoos stood out against his skin, eyes automatically falling to the Freelancer Brand. Despite all the other tattoos on his skin, they never managed to capture his attention…but he kept trying anyway. Always hoping that maybe the next one would catch his eye first, that the more he got the less noticeable it would be. But it never worked - the rest of them may as well have been able to wash off in the shower. They were pointless ink compared to the poison that organization branded him with.

“York? I’m sensing an increase in your heart rate and brain activity,” Delta said, his voice breaking through the ice forming in his mind. He reached a hand to his forehead, “I have categorized the emotion as ‘anger’.”

“I’m alright, D,” he assured, turning away from the mirror to find the bed again.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tinted with as much concern as a being of pure logic could muster.

“Yeah, just thinking too much again,” he laughed despite himself, “You know me.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “But I still cannot completely understand you and your flawed manners of thought - I simply do my best to assess and assist.”

“I know, D. I know.”

They both remained silent, unsure of where to carry the conversation. Normally York made the first move, noticing his own discomfort at his AI’s muteness after something that seemed like it should have been an argument. But his mind was currently somewhere else, occupied by thoughts he locked behind a mental wall most of the time. Dark, constricting thoughts weighted heavily by revenge and anger. And despite, or maybe because of the fact, he shared his thoughts with Delta, the AI silently determined today to be a blue moon and spoke up first.

“I am still reading you as ‘tense’, York. Is something continuing to trouble you?” For a normal human, that would have been the beginning to a speech intended to comfort him. Delta was so straight forward he was vague, a trait that he had never appreciated when they first met. But by now it was standard, typical - and as he thought about it, York knew that he wouldn’t have known how to respond had it been posed any other way.

“What do you think you’d look like as a human?” he asked, turning his head towards the hologram as it appeared beside him.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he replied after a brief pause.

“Run a hologram simulation,” he commanded, “Life size, human base - edit to your personal preferences.”

“Mine?” Delta asked, projecting his smaller form to one of a human size, “York, I have no creativity for such an action.”

“Your personal preferences,” he smiled, familiar with the smug expression taking over his features, “No creativity involved, D. Run it.”

“Complying.”

York sat back, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned against the pillows pushed to the wall. The green hologram drained to white and the Spartan armor disappeared to leave the most basic form of a human. Gradually, distinguishable features began to surface; nearly cut auburn hair framed a face that remained pale despite Delta’s application of a skin color. The face structure was alert but not sharp - a slight lift to the end of the nose, small mouth with medium sized lips and a light dust of freckles along the cheeks. Small ears with two piercing in each lobe appeared - his body set was strong but reserved. Logic first, solider second.

When the symbol for Delta’s namesake appeared in the same place where York bared his Freelancer Brand, he shifted to the end of the bed where the hologram stood. Getting to his feet gave him a height estimation - the AI projected himself about an inch shorter than his host. York’s hand moved up to hover in the space near where the boundary of the skin would have been were the illusion real. The sudden opening of the hologram’s eyes was startling - in great part because of their color. Their bright green glow was the true and final testament to Delta being behind the simulation.

“Is this satisfactory?” The lips of the projection moved and York jumped. His hand jerked back, finding  his own chest where his heart now pounded furiously, “York, I’ve sensed a sudden jump in your pulse, assessment is-” The hologram illuminated a warning red and flickered, the usual armor appearing between the lines.

“No, I’m okay. You just surprised me,” he laughed, “I didn’t realize you could talk through it.”

“I used my default projection and simply altered the settings,” he elaborated. York caught himself watching the foreign lips use a familiar voice to form the words but didn’t bother attempting to hide it, “This is the same ‘me’ that I usually project with a different appearance; thus, I speak through it.”

“I can see that, D,” he grinned. When his heart settled a bit, he tried again and his hand went up, hovering near the hologram’s cheek. Delta stood still, watching him with his green eyes waiting and vivid.

“You have not given a response; is this satisfactory?” he repeated.

The freelancer hesitated, testing how close he could bring his hand before the image shorted. For a few seconds he was almost sure he would feel skin against his fingers, soft and warm, but the tight hopefulness in his chest disappeared when his hand moved through the particles of light. There was nothing solid to touch - just a picture. He knew it yet he felt something akin to disappointment; maybe even devastation. He nodded, “Yeah…yeah, it’s good.”

“Shall I return to my default settings?”

York dropped his hand and turned away, nodding, “Go ahead.”

“Your vital signs have slowed to normal again,” Delta added, his voice was pleased and lifted slightly with helpfulness.

“Yeah? I feel better,” York said, though the words tasted like a lie.

He caught sight of the projection in the mirror - Delta hadn’t restored his settings yet and his green eyes were focused on York’s back. They locked briefly in the mirror when he looked up and the scarred agent jerked his head away. Bringing his hand up to push his bangs from his face, he found it lingering to hide his scarred eye from view though he had no reason why. Somehow it felt like Delta was still keeping his gaze despite the movements and he closed his eyes, laughing emptily at himself, “It was helpful. Thanks, D.”

“I am here to assist,” Delta responded, his projection flickering to gradual invisibility until the familiar, transparent Spartan remained.