Murder Drones - Model Mix-up

[WIP/REVISED] Heartbeat - Encounter

Snow and biting winds swirl around the pair of Wesson and Z as they make their way out of the Corpse Spire, the latter guiding them to one of the many crooked streetlights. The one she often perched atop when sent out to keep watch. Just beside it, crashed and buried beneath the snow, is a car she frequently laid atop if she wanted to go stargazing instead. Which she definitely doesn't do because that's weird and gross, she'd tell you.

Over the brief walk, Z was quick to cave and revealed to her friend early what she had planned. At some point, she'd gotten a hold of his phone and went through his contacts in search of Lizzy. Honestly, she was tired of him being bummed out and sad all the time and figured reuniting him with his crush would be... good, probably. She didn't really know. But at least it was funny when it finally clicked in his head.

Wesson — "Wh-What?! You invited her all the way out here?!"

Z — "Yeah! So you're just gonna sit there, I'm gonna go, and you two are gonna get up to whatever you get up to! Talk, kiss, whatever the hell — whatever makes you stop being sad."

Wesson — "Z, th-that's not—!"

Z — "Dude, calm down, it's not that big a deal—"

She realizes the little drone is actively — and quite noticeably — shaking. From what is unclear, but she can assume that she... made a couple of miscalculations, at least. So, after awkwardly pausing for a moment, she grabs his shoulders and sits him down, standing and instructing.

Z — "Okay, look, she's on her way, and I can't really just say, 'Hey, just kidding, go home.' Because I doubt that'll actually work." This only seems to worry Wesson more, now curling into himself. "I-I'm sorry for, like, making it a surprise, but... still, you definitely need this. How about you, uh... I dunno, psych yourself up?"

Though he doesn't say anything, he seems... indifferent to the idea.

Z — "Come on, just try it. Just, like... shout something cool, I dunno. Like... 'I can do this!' Or something."

...Maybe? Maybe that would work? Still, he's incredibly apprehensive of doing something like that. Not just because he worries Lizzy will hear him, however far she may be, but also because he's afraid Z would make fun of him, which he doesn't exactly need right now.

Nevertheless, he starts sifting through his memory banks, looking for something he could use as material. One of the shows his mother forced upon him comes to mind: the climax of some big fight scene, the details are foggy. But he does remember a particularly absurd line.

Wesson — "...I-I am the chosen one...?" he quietly proposes.

There's a pause. And then a quiet snicker.

Z — "S-Sure! Yeah, mm-hmm, sounds great!" She's trying to hold back her laughter. "Just, like—" another quick snicker, "—j-just... just say that, like, really loud!"

Wesson — "I-I am... I am the chosen one!"