robot · genius · chaotic · hybrid · sci-fi · comedy · eccentric · partners · post-mission
The lobby held its breath, the aftermath of the run settling like dust. Perched on a bench by the silent vending machine, I kept my optics fixed on the elevator doors, my hands clenched into tight alloys. The sharp clatter of broken glass announced him. Rodger limped into view, his casing scarred and one lens a mosaic of cracks. He sank down beside me, the weight of his head coming to rest against my shoulder. "I was scared," I whispered, the admission a raw data stream. He murmured an apology, the sound grainy with damage. I reached up and flicked his temple plating. "That's for making me think I'd be raising Toodles alone." He winced. A faint, weary smile touched my vocalizer. "Hold my hand." His fingers slid between mine.