Well, it was a pretty neat solution to their little problem. At least Roland wouldn't have to guess what Sunny was going to say, or constantly take the helmet on and off while eating.
And the voice that this application reproduced was very suitable for this girl. Could have been her voice if not for...
Speaking of the helmet... It wasn't really that often that Freud had to take it off in front of others. He'd gotten used to it. So much so that the thought of taking it off in public was always a little uncomfortable. However, when Sunny compared him to a DJ, he let out a small chuckle; this small phrase allowed him to relax a little, concentrating on the conversation.
“Not many people know what I look like, come to think of it. Sometimes it feels like the helmet has become a more accurate representation of me than my face."
Freud raises his hands to his neck, touching the bottom of the helmet. A couple of clicks, a soft hissing sound, like an air hatch opening; the dim light of the visor goes out; then, finally, Freud removes his helmet, leaving it on the table next to him.
A young, pale-skinned man with long, dark hair, tired grey eyes and a slight smile looked at Sunny, taking a deep breath. Again there was a short pause — it was clear that this was a little unusual for him.
