## Preface

Royce's Lab
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562106.

Rating:
  General Audiences
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  Other
Fandom:
  Transistor (Video Game)
Characters:
  Sybil Reisz, Royce Bracket
Additional Tags:
  let me indulge myself, let them be bff's, i will repeat myself, Mention of Grant, Mention of Asher
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 1 of What do they do?
Stats:
  Published: 2015-08-13 Words: 1,619 Chapters: 1/1

# Royce's Lab

by preludedArtist

Summary

> “It’s fine. You’re fine,” Royce had picked it up, holding it from the sides. “Practically harmless. Do you want to hold it?

> The little robot makes a crawling motion, trapped in Royce’s hold.

> “No thanks,” She answers, brows furrowed with uneasiness.

> “But…” he looks mischievous. “They like /you/, Sybil.”

> -

> So Sybil goes to Fairview and Royce doesn't even know how to make tea can you believe this?

Notes

> How can I not? I have to join the "member of the Camerata is introduced to the Process" bandwagon.
> I'm probably going to mention this is every fic I write but
> Royce and Sybil are 100% platonic brotp fight me

> Sybil is so so sooooo fun to write.

> This fic is inspired by tumblr user's simandthedimbulbv2-0 artwork. Give it some love at http://simandthedimbulbv2-0.tumblr.com/post/126355713111/they-like-you-sybil

## Royce's Lab

“I didn’t know you were doing this well in Fairview,” Sybil comments, stepping into the foyer of the large building and setting her umbrella in the corner to dry.

“Naturally,” Royce responds, gesturing with his hand to invite her even deeper into his estate.

Sybil looks around with no shame, taking in every little detail and decor. It was pretty nice, to be completely honest, though she wasn’t sure why he needed so much private space for himself. She’s positive hundreds of people could fit in here without trouble at all- hell and that’s only for the first floor.

Sybil stops walking when made aware of the noises her shoes were making. “Oh, dear my shoes have been treading water this whole time,”

“Hn. I don't really care,”

It’ll dry up eventually, won’t it?

The two of them make it to the kitchen- too big to be run by one person- and Sybil briefly wonders if Royce had more people here. “Did you call me here to show me your kitchen?” she teases.

“You usually have tea, don’t you?” he counters. “And it’s raining so... uh… I assumed..”

Sybil quickly shakes her head, “No no I was only messing around. Tea sounds really nice. God the weather is hell to deal with this past week. Wasn’t it snow a few days ago?”

“And what a snow day it was,”

“I usually wouldn’t mind the rain,” She removes her hat, setting it on one of the steel counter tops. “But today is inconvenient. The raindrops out there are too big and they’re so cold.”

Royce turns to face her, leaning back and propping his elbows onto the counter next to the stove. “Do you regret dressing up? Hmm in all white, too.”

Sybil makes a face. “Don’t talk to me about dressing up. You’re wearing a vest.”

A short silence seemed to drag on.

“Yes I am.”

“You dressed up?” She fluffs her hair, obviously teasing. “Oh honey, for me?”

Royce rolls his eyes, quite used to being the target of Sybil’s taunts. “Of course. I figured dressing up would spare me the ten minutes you use up complaining about me not dressing up. But now I see that I can’t catch a break. Not a single break at all.”

“Don’t be condescending,” Sybil huffs, cheeks growing hot when she realizes he was absolutely right. “If I can’t criticize something then what’s the point? It’s not like you have a heart,”

He lets out a hum in agreement, turning his attention to the boiling water. “That’s true.”

She scoffs and he places the teacup in front of her.

“When did you learn to make tea?”

Royce answers with a shrug, giving a little hop up and sitting on the counter.

“Do you know how to make tea?”

“It can’t be that hard.”

“But you’ve only given me hot water,” Sybil points to the tea cup.

A brief flash of guilt showed in his expression. “I think… perhaps I… I forgot to...”

She would have accused him of being a smart ass but dear god this poor man is being genuine.

Sybil holds her stomach, nearly breathless with laughter. “You just- you didn’t put the leaves- do you have any?”

“I don’t drink tea,” Royce crosses his arms, looking scolded. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s because you got used to the cold premade ones,” She’s still grinning, resting her fist on her check. “Do you have any lemon? Or honey?”

“Ah… maybe,”

“Where is everyone else?” Sybil asks, sipping on her teacup and placing it down on the little plate.

They both walked down one of the many hallways, Royce leading upfront.

“Assuming that I live with anyone?”

She gave him a surprised look. “Huh? This giant place to yourself?”

Cloudbank was always full of people and tall buildings and extravagant structures. Having such a large estate to oneself was still a little new to Sybil.

“Isn’t it quiet?”

“It’s a lot less stressful,” he answers, typing into a keypad. “A lot of privacy. Enough privacy. No worries that anyone would wander off where they shouldn’t. After you?”

Sybil steps into the elevator first, a little surprised it went down instead of up. “And here I thought I would actually get a tour of your house. Does anyone come visit?”

“Grant does. Sometimes. Something about Asher needing space for his article deadlines?”

“Hm… alright. That is understandable.” Even Sybil knows not to mess with the writer when he was working. “Huh, wait, he’s allowed to come over whenever? Why don’t you ever invite me? It’s such a pretty place, too.”

Royce leans back against the wall. It was a long way down. “He doesn’t come here to gossip, Sybil.”

She gives him an affronted look. “You’re awful. I can do business, too.”

The platform stops and Royce steps out first, flicking on the lights to his extravagant laboratory.

“Oh! This is where you work,” Sybil is wide-eyed. The red lighting seemed a little hard to work with, hm?

The ceiling of his lab was high to the point it was almost impossible to see it; no wonder the elevator platform took so long to get down here. Sybil quickens her pace as she follows him, noticing an inclination as they walk further in. She notes they’ve been climbing up, subtly, in a spiral. Like a road with many turns. The design of his lab was much more fascinating than she had thought.

They reach a platform, almost like a second level, and Royce steps onto it, flicking on the lights to this one.

Unlike the red lighting from the previous room, this one shaded a light blue; almost comforting.

“No wonder you stay over here for days without a word,” she muses, taking his hand when he offers it and letting herself be seated. “Is this what you called me over for? It’s a very nice lab,”

“I didn’t invite you over to show you my lab,” he mutters absentmindedly, already distracted by the computers.

Sybil suddenly drops her teacup, wincing when it breaks into small shards. Her hand is on her chest and she's staring down at the small white robot. “I didn’t mean to… it popped out of no where,” she apologizes and Royce waves her off. Messes happen sometimes. “Did you make it come out?”

Royce nods, facing her with a surprisingly pleased expression.

He looks very tired, Sybil notices. Good grief.

“All from a click of a button. I’m working on just this one for now, trying to bend its controls to my will. It is a little bit of a creep, sometimes following me around or knocking my things over. Troublesome troublesome.”

“You let it do what it wants?” Sybil asks, standing up from her seat to tentatively step closer to the small thing.

“No no no,” he shakes his head, typing away on one of this many keyboards. “I have it under control. Sometimes. It breaks out of its programming... occasionally.”

Sybil gives him a look (that he ignores) and stares down at the device. “It’s so small,” and she jumps back in surprise when it quickly crawls at her.

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” Royce had picked it up, holding it from the sides. “Practically harmless. Do you want to hold it?”

The little robot makes a crawling motion, trapped in Royce’s hold.

“No thanks,” She answers, brows furrowed with uneasiness.

“But…” he looks mischievous. “They like you, Sybil.”

“Get that out of my face,” She waves a hand, though despite her words contradicts herself by leaning in closer and sliding a finger down the glass orb that serves as the robot’s eye. The red glow illuminates her face.

“Don’t get too close to it. I don’t have down how stable they are,” Royce warns, stepping back with it. Considering how many times that thing has previously tried to zap at his face, he’s almost quite envious with how tame it behaved around her. Still… he could never be too careful.

“Right,” Sybil nods, a bit transfixed with the little thing. “Huh. We’re really going to do this.”

Royce responds with a look, placing the Process down where it couldn't reach them. “Yes?”

“A few months ago this was just a plan. A little bit like a sketch and now… here we are.”

“Are you trying to back out of this now?”

“What? No.” She makes a scoffing noise. “This just feels so foolproof,”

“Nothing is ever really foolproof.”

“Oh, honey, let me pretend.” She sighs.

Royce turns back to the keyboard, mindlessly flicking something on his screen. “You’re the first person I show this to,”

That catches her attention. “Not even Grant?”

“Ah no,” he stops typing for a moment. “Wouldn’t want him to see any mistakes. I want to be sure it's ready before he gets to see it.”

“He knows you’re not perfect,” She sings. “You should start calling him ‘dad’.”

Royce turns, clearly irked.

“I kid!” she defends, grinning widely and holding her hands up in defeat. “Are you going to be showing me the rest of your house soon?”

“Do you want to see the rest of my house?” he asks, tapping the large screen one or two times before it fades to sleep. The blue lights of the lab dim.

Sybil stands to attention, looking pleased. “Yes. Oh- what about the tea cup? I was already finished with what was inside but it’s not safe to leave glass on the ground.”

Royce glances down at the small shattered mess on the ground. “Eh. I’ll… take care of that later.” He’s definitely going to forget. “You wanted a tour?”

“Lead the way. I can’t wait to share some decorative advice.”

## Afterword

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