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Who: Meyer & Daneel
Where: Near the edge of the woods
When: Day 101, also known as happy fun blackout times
What: They're both gathering firewood (gotta keep productive during unexpected blackouts, after all!) and run into each other.

Meyer had been wary of the woods ever since the incident with the tiger. It strikes him as something isolated, something statistically unlikely to occur again, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't give the denser clumps of trees wide berth, aware that some kind of large animal could be lurking within them. There's good reason to be on the edge of the woods this afternoon, though, and that's because of the blackout; more firewood will be needed soon enough, and gathering it makes him feel as though he's doing something productive.

He's alone, for the moment -- he'd convinced the freshly returned Charlie to stay back, to get some rest, still not entirely convinced that Charlie is as physically healthy as he seems, still not sure what those days of disappearance had done to him. Pausing for a moment in his meticulous gathering of any sticks that look usable for the large fire, he takes a second to light a cigarette (an indulgence which he wouldn't normally allow himself, not when supplies are low, but which seems appropriate at the moment) and takes a long drag on it, surveying the woods with an intent eye, ready to go for his gun in case anything suddenly leaps out at him.

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He takes a moment to answer.

"I left a situation behind me that requires my attention," Daneel says at last. "I need to return and ensure that humanity continues on the path that friend Giskard laid out, and that it does not dwindle and decay and destroy itself as we foresaw. I would..."

He falls silent; in fact, he's momentarily unable to speak. It's difficult to process even the fact that he would have regrets about choosing to care for all humanity. He has no master. Humanity as a whole is his master. He serves humanity.

"I would greatly miss the individuals I have met here. I would greatly miss Ned."

"You seem to care about Ned a great deal."

It's not disbelief, exactly, that's so evident in his tone. He believes what Ned has said, that Ned and Daneel care about each other, whatever that means to the two of them (it's hardly his business how they choose to define it,) and he believes it when Daneel says he'd miss Ned. On the other hand, he's not sure he can imagine becoming so close to someone so quickly. It takes him years to be comfortable with someone, in general. That people have formed these intense connections isn't unbelievable, perhaps, but it's not in his frame of reference, either.

Again, hesitation on Daneel's part. It's a difficult thing to admit to.

"Ned has been kind to me in a way I am unaccustomed to. He wishes me to grow as a person, which is not something I have often been encouraged to do. I wish for him to be happy; he wishes the same for me."

It's difficult to explain, somehow. He knows Ned's mind, the familiar subtleties of it, the comforting patterns therein.

"His company pleases me in a way that I am not used to experiencing. To make him happy is important to me. It's... a very new situation for me."

Meyer wonders, for a brief moment, whether what Daneel is describing is actually a far more accurate description of the concept of 'love' than anything he's ever heard before. To say that he's skeptical of love would be an understatement -- there's a part of him that doubts that it truly exists, except as a abstract sort of thing. Certainly, the way most people explain it leaves him unmoved. However, Daneel's phrasing is simple and understandable, something that doesn't involve sweeping emotions so much as straightforward logic.

"I see."

For a second, he thinks he does, and then he wonders if he's simply being sentimental, and shakes his head slightly. "I guess that's one of the few good things I've heard that's come out of being stuck here, then."

"It is certainly an unexpected benefit."

He can't explain his attachment to Ned; it merely is. If Ned would be happier if he had never come here, then he would want that, even if it would mean Daneel would never have met him. Ned is precious. Ned is important.

"I admit I cannot entirely explain my attachment to Ned, as it's unlike anything I've felt towards any individual before. Perhaps what I felt for friend Giskard was similar, but even then, the quality was different. I am still trying to quantify it. I can only say that he is significant."

"I think most people would qualify it as love, or at least something close to it."

Although far be it from him to put a label on anything anyone else feels, especially when it comes to attachments. He can only say what other people might consider it, not what it really is, though he knows that, of course, Ned has said that he's in love with Daneel. And then he wonders whether what he said was entirely appropriate, and hastens to add:

"I apologize for... overstepping my boundaries by saying so."

"You have overstepped nothing," Daneel assures him. He has no sense of personal privacy to be invaded, after all.

Love, though, is a matter he's spent some time considering.

"I can't be certain that I am capable of love as most people would think of it. It's possible that I am wrong to attempt it. It's also possible that I am capable of some variety of analogue, as I am of many emotions, and that this is close enough for any purposes. It's difficult for me to say."

A pause, then: "That you would consider it such is encouraging."

"I'm not certain that the way most people think of it is the only correct way to think of it."

It's not a topic he has much experience with, after all. He knows that the way many people conceive of love isn't the way he does, and he's not actually certain that he's capable of it in the way most people are. Perhaps he and Daneel are similar in that way, though of course, if Daneel is lacking a sense of personal privacy, Meyer's sense of personal privacy is large enough for the both of them.

"If you want it to be love, and you have analogous emotions, then it might as well be. There's no correct definition for human emotion."

Nor is there any practical or easy way to handle human emotion, but he's certain Daneel's figured that out by now.

Daneel blinks, considering this idea with a brand new perspective. It isn't easy, but it's easier to consider than concepts like being a person worthy of as much respect as a human being. He can... possibly integrate this idea, though it must stand up to logical examination, first.

"This idea is pleasant," he says. "Thank you for it. If love is a concept with many applications and variations, and sexual desire can be excluded from it, then I may very well be able to define it as something I'm capable of."

In which case, he's probably not going to harm Ned, at least not that way.

"Well," he says, managing through some impressive effort not to grow visibly uncomfortable at the mention of sexual desire, "people generally consider themselves to love their families, but that's going to have a much different application than loving someone romantically, yes?"

He shrugs. It's not something he's given much thought to before, but it stands to reason. Most emotions vary, depending on the situation, depending on the person, depending on the context at any given time. And of course, it's far easier for him to be on the outside looking in, viewing Ned and Daneel's emotions and giving his own interpretation to them. Whether or not he's right, he isn't sure.

"It's just a theory," he cautions, never wanting to be too certain about something, especially not something so vague as emotion.

Though Meyer's discomfort might not be visible, to an empath it's perfectly clear.

"My apologies. I momentarily forgot to make allowances for differing cultural taboos. I did not mean to offend."

He's... well, excited is the wrong word, but this is nevertheless important. "I will need to consider this idea from all points of view before I attempt to integrate it. I must be sure it is wholly logical. Still, it has a great deal of promise."

"You didn't... offend."

Well, so much for that. Now he actually is turning slightly red, simply from the fact that Daneel had obviously noticed his discomfort, somehow. "I'm just not used to people discussing that sort of thing freely." Or rather, not necessarily in the context that Daneel is -- he certainly knows plenty of people who talk about sex incessantly, but normally jokingly.

"Exactly where I misstepped." He's rather contrite, actually. Embarrassment is a form of harm, after all. "I beg your pardon."

Perhaps it's better to simply change the subject and hope for a more comfortable conversation.

"Are there any other questions I might be able to answer for you? To an extent, you do seem curious about me."

"I am intrigued," he admits, "but it seems rude to treat you like some sort of... curiosity."

Maybe it's his own sense of personal space dictating his discomfort with the idea, but he can't imagine being so open to questions as Daneel is. Half of what he's asked Daneel has already been what he'd consider overstepping polite boundaries, and Daneel hadn't seemed to mind.

"I have always been a curiosity," is Daneel's calm reply. "Humaniform robots, such as myself, have never been common, and I was originally a prototype. Even in a society very used to robots, I am something unusual."

More than one person has objected to asking Daneel questions. He has to acknowledge that perhaps, if he were human, he might take offense to some questions, but he isn't and he doesn't.

"You may ask me whatever you wish. I would prefer people here are comfortable with me, and I hope it will be easier for people to be comfortable with me if they know about me."

"I see."

That willingness to answer questions, perhaps more than anything else about Daneel thus far, strikes Meyer as very alien. He's grown up in a world where being too open with one's personal information can be dangerous, and information is never volunteered without a sense of caution.

"Do you think people here are comfortable with you now? In general?"

He is, and obviously Ned is, but he can't speak for the rest of the populace.

He hesitates a moment.

"I believe so. I certainly hope so. I believe that my ability to be aware of the emotional state of minds around me is most troubling to people. I... I admit that I attempted to hide that ability for some time. However, at this point, with a number of people whom I have chosen to share that ability with, along with having this secret revealed against my will, I now judge it better to be honest."

"I can't blame you for attempting to hide it."

And, privately, he thinks that if he were in a similar position, he never would have revealed it at all, unless he'd been forced to. That's the kind of thing that can make people uneasy, and it's also the kind of thing that could be exceptionally beneficial if used in the proper way. He doesn't think Daneel is that kind of person, though, what with his rules about harming humanity -- he'd probably see using those abilities to his own benefit as being harmful.

"There're so many people around here with powers. Abilities. Things that strikes me as... out of the ordinary. It's odd."

"I would certainly have thought many of the abilities I've witnessed here to be impossible," Daneel says, seriously. "On the whole, they are possibly quite useful. As far as my own go..."

He pauses, gives a little sigh. "I am not eager to share it, even now. I have had the ability guessed, and I've been revealed against my will, but on the whole my experience is that people are frightened less when I volunteer it to them. Ned himself learned it in this way, and was deeply uncomfortably initially. He is... more comfortable, now."

Shared secrets, perhaps, make things easier.

"Everyone has secrets, I suppose. Some more uncomfortable than others. I doubt anyone would fault you for being less than eager to share your secrets."

His are of the uncomfortable type, though they don't apply to abilities or powers. Still, while he can completely understand that people may be more comfortable with honesty, he can't fathom being honest about half of the things he's experienced or done. He imagines most of the people in town have their own deep, dark secrets, even if they are open about their powers.

"Perhaps. I merely don't wish to raise suspicions if it's discovered that that I have been hiding something like this."

That isn't to say he doesn't have secrets, ones that he won't touch upon at all unless forced to. Ned found it out. It was hard enough for Ned to learn that. There are things that he and Giskard have done -- even if he knows, believes it's for the best, it meant creating a planet-scaled disaster. It's hard for that to be seen as an entirely benevolent act.

"I am beginning to believe that secrets are a universal part of being human, or being a person at all for that matter."

"I'm of the opinion that they are. Any person who claims to be one hundred percent honest is undoubtedly lying."

It's not cynicism, exactly, but it has been his experience. He's never met someone who claimed to have no secrets that wasn't attempting to be manipulative, or attempting to cover up something enormous. His own tactic, he thinks, works well enough: he gives people enough information that they feel he's polite and genuine, if slightly reserved, but never gives anyone anything that they could use against him. Except for Ned, of course. Ned knows things he shouldn't. In another place, in another time, he'd consider Ned a threat. Here, he's beginning to consider him a friend.

"Perhaps this is so."

Meyer is... interesting. He likes him, on the whole -- though it would be difficult for him to say anything negative about any human being. Still, he understands Meyer in what is a rather pleasant way. Human in a way that is very, very different from Daneel, but... logical in a nearly robotic sense.

It's a shade of being human that makes it a little easier to accept himself as a person.

"I find it difficult to believe humans are lying to me, unless I am near enough to sense their emotional state. Intellectually, I know that they do, but unless I know for certain that what they say is false, I have never been able to accuse them."

"That's probably just as well. Most people don't take too kindly to being accused of lying, even if they are. Better to keep your suspicions quiet, unless you have evidence that they're not telling the truth."

He very rarely assumes that what anyone says is honest, but that doesn't mean he goes around accusing people of lying, either. It's too dangerous -- people have a vested interest in appearing to be decent human beings, and apparently, that involves an interest in appearing truthful. The average person gets angry when challenged, he finds.

Daneel, he thinks, is interesting in that he's simultaneously so relatable in his logic and his precision, and yet, so different in so many ways. Maybe it's the divide between human and robot, or maybe it's simply that, although they obviously both place value on logic and reasoning, their personalities have inherent differences -- starting with Daneel's apparent desire to protect humanity.

He considers this advice. This is perhaps true.

"It offends people to be accused of falsehood, even when they are in fact, lying." He frowns, slightly. "I have observed this in the past, though it does not strike me as logical."

It's one of those aspects of human behaviour he recognises and knows without understanding.