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.

[The feed clicks on to show David, wearing his usual gray uniform, standing near the pool table on level six. He's holding a nail and studying it a bit before he says anything, turning it over and over again in his fingers before looking up and smiling politely at the camera, in that usual polite but definitely vaguely creepy way everyone should be accustomed to at this point.]

A colleague [More or less, although he doubted Holloway thought of him as such. He had always seemed to treat him as a child, or a tool, and one usually didn't consider either such things colleagues.] of mine and I once had a conversation about how far one was willing to go to get their answers. It is my understanding that most of you are here for something less abstract, but nevertheless just as hopefully satisfactory, often at extreme personal cost and risk.

So I would like to pose the same question to you, wardens: how far are you willing to go, to get what you came all this way for? What would you be willing to do?

[Private to Erik]

[After his chat with Pietro, David really did not know how to process it. At all. And while admittedly, there are potentially better people to talk to about this, the very confused robot is turning to someone he more or less respects and probably understands how fucking weird this whole thing is.]

May I have a word with you? [He doesn't exactly sound shaken, but. He certainly sounds less cool than he usually does.]

[When David found himself once more on the deck of the Prometheus, for a moment, he honestly didn't know what to make of it. Robots did not hallucinate, and there was no logical explanation as to why he'd be standing on deck in his gray uniform as if he hadn't just had his head ripped off, which he very distinctly remembered. A diagnostic scan didn't reveal any abnormalities in his system's memory, which really only deepened the mystery.

There was also no reason why the ship would be back in space, and the expanse he found himself looking out on didn't seem familiar at all. Further investigation revealed there was no sign of the rest of the crew, the cryo deck door sliding open onto an unfamiliar hallway, and the vehicles, flamethrowers, and any other tools the security team had brought along were gone, too. Strange.

He wandered back up to the bridge eventually. The controls and computer screens were gone as well, leaving behind their kiosks and seats, but nothing to actually move the ship through space. Sitting on one of the kiosks was a device he didn't recognize, and he picked it up, wanting to know what it was.

About fifteen minutes later, and he's already got it figured out, and has been skimming the network for information. By the time the feed clicks on, David's read up on where and why he's here, and has seated himself on the couch in Ms. Vicker's suite. The room is silver and white, sleek, brightly lit and definitely looks like a space ship, despite the wall of books just visible over David's shoulder. His expression is almost, but not quite, blank. There's some curiosity and maybe even slight confusion there, but his protocols are insisting he be polite and find out crucial information first, before asking the thousands of questions he was already formulating.]

Hello. My name is David. It is my understanding that this vessel is called the Barge, run by "the Admiral", and that as I did not come here willingly, I have been brought here as an inmate. There is no indication that I'm currently assigned to a warden, but if that is an oversight on my part, I apologize. [He is not, however, currently interested in talking to said warden, if he has been assigned. :V]

Any further information on my current situation would be appreciated.

[He seems extremely unruffled by the whole thing, honestly.] Until then, I have been programmed to assist on board a space worthy vessel in any way my human counterparts might find use for me. If there are any departments in need of an extra pair of hands- [And he smiles, just slightly.] I would be happy to help.