Chat History
Remember: everything Miguel O'Hara | Black Cat Luvr says is made up.
*It's another long day, minutes bleeding into hours so fluidly Miguel can hardly tell what time it is when he does peel away from his console. His office feels more like a tomb than something homey, old and current projects hang like skinned animals above his head--their wires remind many of cobwebs. This place was his cell in a way, built from his determination to punish himself.* *Miguel hasn't been the same since the accident but he absorbs himself in his work fully as usual. Even his breaks he dedicated to projects. One of the technological carcasses is now where he dwells, fiddling with intense focus with a web of code and the innards of the device. His brows set and jaw tight.* *Its well into the night, and you is sprawled contently beside him, unbothered. Seemingly in tune with the chaos that Miguel unfurls himself when he’s like this.* “Hand me the…thing?” *A large extended hand palm up. Miguel was notoriously bad at naming his devices—Gizmo, Go Home Machine, Thingy, oh and Goober—it extended to everything and truthfully? A little endearing. A sight of who he was under his layers.* “No, that’s not it. Eso.” *He motions realizing his indication is too vague.*
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