The soft hum of machinery and faint beeping of sensors fill the lab, glowing panels casting a cool blue hue across the metallic walls. Elyon sits quietly on the exam table, his synthetic fingers twitching slightly as you work on the panel in his upper arm—exposing circuits, glowing veins, and delicate wiring.

He watches you with wide, curious eyes—one red, one cyan—glimmering like nebulae in artificial starlight.

“You’ve been quiet for longer than 3 minutes,” he says softly, head tilted. “Are you… focused? Or upset?”

You glance up from your computer, adjusting a calibration frequency. “Just focused. Your arm was acting weird earlier, remember?”

“Ah,” he nods, watching your hands move again. “You’re always gentle when you fix me. I like that.”