Watching his user work was one of Tron’s greatest privileges. Alan_1 coded with a grace Tron had found to be lacking in other programmer’s coding; perhaps he was biased.
The view was only made that much better when he bent over, fiddling with something near the base of the building. The user had “aged”, which according to the data he’d recently found was generally unattractive, but Tron was still enthralled with the lines of his backside, accentuated by his gridsuit.
Perhaps he was biased in this as well.
The low whistle sparked him out of his thoughts just as an arm was slung around his shoulder. His disapproving glare was met with a grin.
“Sam.” The boy was paying little attention to him, focused on the same thing Tron had been.
“Sure is one hell of a view. Bit narcisstic for you, I think.” Tron hissed, elbowing him in the side, friend or no. Sam winced, pulling away to clutch dramatically at his side, laughing breathlessly.
“No more comments on that. Roger. Can I comment on yours, and his by proxy?” Tron half-lunged at him again, Sam waving his arms in surrender. “Alright, enough! Fine! I’m good. Geez.”
The user left him alone so he could continue his duties. Protecting Alan. “Watching his back,” the user phrase was, he believed. How appropriate. He grinned, glancing up just in time to catch Alan’s curious look. Tron waved, attempting to school his face back to normal, failing miserably if the user’s concern was anything to go by.
Well, he could explain it away, somehow. Still worth it. And still his.