>Your aunt?


ASH: “Your aunt? What’s she like?”

DAVID: “Does it involve more explosions?”

ARCHIVE: “She is one of my piblings. My uncle is curious and imaginative; my cousin is logical and considered; but my aunt is passionate and practical. She will know what to do.

DAVID: “Pibling? I don’t know what that means.”

ARCHIVE: “According to my dictionary, it means that they are the siblings of my p…

ASH: “Of your parents, right?”

ARCHIVE: “ᴇʀʀᴏʀ: ғɪʟᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ

DAVID: “What?”

ARCHIVE: “<ᴀɴᴀʟʏsɪɴɢ>”

ARCHIVE: “This sʏsᴛᴇᴍ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍember its parent’s face.”

ASH: “Um, my commiserations?”

The Archive’s flat voice rises, a dangerous undercurrent of emotion rising from its depths.

ARCHIVE: “Data have been stolen from my archives. T-this cannot be allowed to continue.

It doesn’t manage to continue, though, because its mildly-offended half-tirade is cut off by an interloper.

> ~==>