A cunning plan!

ㅤ Harold could have conducted preliminary measurements of mental and physiological activity for the transfer of consciousness into the Swordians in a less private setting, but her brilliant mind decided otherwise. And she had an individual approach to everyone. She "dealt" most quickly with Clemente. He followed instructions precisely, masterfully ignoring provocative teasing. Things were more fun with Chaltier. She even showed respect for Atwight. But Harold saved the best for last… Harold took her time with Dymlos. With a satisfied smile, she began to study the subject. Truly enjoying the toned male body and strong arms, she lifted one of them, ringing his wrist. Then the other, deliberately lingering her finger on the thin, vein-lined skin. Gently touching the exposed areas with her fingers, she attached the sensors. But even the covered areas didn't escape her attention: Harold used her palms to assess the firmness of his muscles. Standing behind him, taking measurements, she hugged him very casually. Then she lowered her playful hands just below his lower back, literally digging her fingers into his tense… "Harold, that's too much!" "No, Clemente's were stronger," she said matter-of-factly. "So, while yours are still good, there's still room for improvement," Harold winked at him. "Are you saying that this daring stunt is also necessary for the consciousness transfer?" Dymlos said skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to accidentally damage the wiring. Harold had always been a peculiar person, but no one doubted her genius, so it was hard to say for sure she was just messing around. "Well-l-l of course!" she drawled. Then she smiled sharply, beaming with mischief. "Although, who knows, maybe I only planned all this so I could touch you?" Harold chuckled, continuing her work. In complete silence: Dymlos made no sound, looking at her with suspicion. "What!? Is it really too much to joke about?" "Nothing. It's just that you can…" Dymlos looked away. "You're capable of it." "However," Harold suddenly leaned close to Dymlos, standing on tiptoe, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "if you don't mind…" Afraid to rip out all the wires, Dymlos merely tactfully turned away, not allowing Harold to touch his lips with hers. It turned out to be an innocent peck on the cheek. "I'm against it. So, please, let's finish this quickly." "Too bad," Harold said with absolute calm. Why should she be sad? Her brilliant mind had already gone far into the future with its thoughts. "No big deal. I'll just take Dymlos's Swordian when Miktran is finished. I wonder how difficult it would be to create a humanoid form that's pleasant to the touch…?" she thought seriously, not forgetting to record the data she was receiving in the present from Dymlos’s body standing in front of her. "The mechanical parts are no problem, nor is the mind transfer. But recreating the skin and facial expressions, not to mention other functions…" "That's all!" Harold finished collecting the data. "And you're getting all worked up!" "I'm more worried about having to come back a few more times, and during this 'breather,' you might come up with something else…" Dymlos admitted honestly, getting ready to leave. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that! I've already thought of so much!" Dymlos merely sighed resignedly: Harold was beyond control. And they were glad that she was on their side. 'I'll have to have a serious talk with Karell…' Dymlos thought hopelessly as he left. 'I'll need to work on an algorithm that directs the Swordian's consciousness in the right direction,' Harold mentally added a point, looking after Dymlos, smiling as usual. ㅤ