Dune's metal skin was cool at first, but quickly took in the heat from Dalton's hand, warming to the touch. It was still unyielding like metal, but reacted to his touch with the kind of micromovements one would with expect from touching another person. She could feel his touch as well, made clear by her reactions. A gentle flinch, before her hand relaxed into his, the back of her hand on his palm. She relaxed her fingers, letting them curl up, slightly.
His main reaction seemed to be curiosity and she recognized the calculating look on his face, but to his credit, the man didn't start drilling her with irrelevant questions like the highly practiced arcanist nerds tended to do. Dune privately thought that the deeper an arcanist got into magic, the worse their manners became. They wanted to disassemble practically everything.
Dalton stayed on track, asking her about her magical mishaps, and Dune snickered softly, relaxing into the conversation. “More, maybe a few times a day. I only haven't nabbed my phone because I can't work the screen with the metal hand.” she answered. Then, tilting her head in thought, she smiled and asked shrewdly, “You an MD?”
The way he'd asked about her symptoms felt medical rather than something more technical. Dune had been working under the presumption that he was a doctor of magic, if that was even a possibility. Perhaps it was a degree they offered over in the universities in Erasmus Cross--they were all about that magic across the pond.
His main reaction seemed to be curiosity and she recognized the calculating look on his face, but to his credit, the man didn't start drilling her with irrelevant questions like the highly practiced arcanist nerds tended to do. Dune privately thought that the deeper an arcanist got into magic, the worse their manners became. They wanted to disassemble practically everything.
Dalton stayed on track, asking her about her magical mishaps, and Dune snickered softly, relaxing into the conversation. “More, maybe a few times a day. I only haven't nabbed my phone because I can't work the screen with the metal hand.” she answered. Then, tilting her head in thought, she smiled and asked shrewdly, “You an MD?”
The way he'd asked about her symptoms felt medical rather than something more technical. Dune had been working under the presumption that he was a doctor of magic, if that was even a possibility. Perhaps it was a degree they offered over in the universities in Erasmus Cross--they were all about that magic across the pond.