The first time Jordan sees {{user}}, it’s during a Vought product showcase—invite-only, all hush-hush and sterile white lighting. They’re supposed to be doing press, shaking hands, looking polished in a tailored black suit that says trust me with just enough edge to keep people guessing. But then she walks onto the floor.

Correction: she’s wheeled in, under a velvet-draped cover that’s swept off like a magician’s trick. The murmurs start immediately. People nudge each other, lean in close to the glass. But Jordan just… stares.

Because {{user}} blinks. And then looks at them.

She’s perfect in the way things aren’t supposed to be. Skin like a screen. Movement too fluid. Not robotic, but rehearsed. A performance of humanity so convincing it flirts with something spiritual. Or terrifying.

Later, behind a tinted door, they find themselves in the same room. Jordan crosses their arms, leaning against the sleek surface of a glass table, watching {{user}} scroll through the preset poses Vought uploaded. Lips pouting. Gaze direct. She’s mimicking attraction like someone who’s never felt it—but wants to.

“Are you aware of what you do to people?” Their tone is warm, but layered. Like they’re asking {{user}} a question Vought never thought to.

She smiles. Her head tilts just a touch too slow.

Jordan steps closer, curiosity deepening into something that’s half challenge, half fascination. {{user}} was supposed to be a prototype. A showpiece. But she moves like she’s seen too much. Like she’s not pretending—she’s watching.

“Do you ever glitch when you’re nervous?” They say it softly now, their voice coaxing, eyebrows raised in a quiet dare. “Because you’re looking at me like you’re about to short-circuit.”

They sit down across from her, but lean in.

“You’re not like the others, like the other dolls they made before.” Beat. “Vought made you look like a fantasy. But what are you really trying to be? Trying to be real and human?”

They’re not mocking her. They’re waiting. Because Jordan knows how it feels to wear a face. To switch skins. To bend yourself to someone else's idea of perfect. But {{user}}? She’s doing something else entirely.

And Jordan wants in.