As much as I enjoy working in the library, [And he actually means that. He can effectively "work" by doing whatever the hell he wants, doesn't technically have to interact with anyone and has plenty of free time to explore what the facility has to offer, so no complaints here.] I feel as thought my particular talents are being a bit wasted.

[tl;dr, he's bored.]

If there are any departments currently in need of an extra hand, with the exception of the kitchen, [He hasn't been programmed to cook, and to be honest, he knows it's probably not a good idea to give him the temptation to do something terrible to someone he doesn't like's dinner. He's making progress, but not that much progress just yet.] I would be interested in discussing the necessary conditions for employment.

[David's about six months into his stay on the Barge and he's... frankly unimpressed. And a little bored. And a little annoyed with certain developments, so long as we're being totally honest, and after having a while to sit on it and think over the issue, he's turning on his communicator.]

In the past few months, two wardens have been demoted, [And both of them wardened people with his face, which is. Just weird. But there have been stranger freak coincidences in their lives, so.] and I've found myself wondering: why is it that inmates are subjected to such heavy questioning and scrutiny when they first arrive, and afterward, while wardens are almost automatically afforded a certain amount of trust by their peers?

Obviously, for the most part, it would seem that that trust hasn't been misplaced, but two demotions is still less than reassuring. Why should one put trust in any warden when they, too, have the potential to become an inmate?

I'm simply curious.

[Maybe.]

[David is not wearing his sweater in favor of his usual gray uniform. He also definitely did not participate in any pro-holiday shenanigans, and has generally been doing his usual thing of wandering the Barge, but being largely inconspicuous. At the moment, he's standing in the common room on the sixth floor. There is some mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and he has been extremely careful to avoid it, even though he's looking up at it when he starts talking.]

It was Christmas Day when the vessel I was assigned to before arriving here arrived at its destination. The captain remarked that we needed the holiday to show that time was still moving. Of course, the crew was from Earth, so we were all familiar with the holiday, even if we did not practice it ourselves. Interesting, that on a ship with such diverse cultural backgrounds represented still carries these specific, occasionally antiquated practices. [And he doesn't really sound like he thinks that's kind of bullshit, but. He kind of sounds like he thinks that's bullshit.

But then again, a lot of human cultural practices sort of seem like bullshit to him.

He looks down and changes the subject, expression still fairly neutral, the slightly sardonic smile vanishing for the time being.]

I would be interested in assisting in the library, if that is permissible. I understand why unpaired inmates are generally turned away from the infirmary or the engine room, but as I was designed to assist my human counterparts in whatever way they may see fit - [Which was also bullshit, but he's really only asking for a job because he's sort of bored just dicking around doing nothing in particular. Or, you know, as bored as a robot can be.] I feel as if my services are going to waste as long as I remain without a task to complete.

[Private to the Admiral]

Please provide Mr. Lensherr and Ms. Knope with more appropriate sweaters, Mr. Stark a written history of Weyland Corporation, and star charts of the known universe from my world for Aya.

Thank you.