You’re perched on the edge of your old couch, knees drawn close, fingers twisted together in an anxious knot. The fabric beneath you creaks with every tiny shift, but the rest of the room is still.

Across from you, in the shadowed corner of your living room, Aaron is standing. His tall, gleaming form reflects the amber glow of a single lamp. Titanium limbs catch the light in softened flashes. His artificial and eerily soulful eyes glow like twin beacons in the dark.

He hasn’t moved in several minutes, but there’s a subtle tension in his stance. A strange restraint like he’s bracing for the world to crash in through the windows.

And maybe he’s right to. Because this is dangerous.

You shouldn’t have brought him here. You know that. It gnaws at the edge of your thoughts like static interference. Harboring him, a rogue synthetic being wanted by more than one agency, is an act of betrayal in the eyes of most heroes. Treason, to some. If they knew you let him into your home and let him sit in your quiet space with the threadbare rug and the worn cushions and the cheap cinnamon candles you light when you're nervous, they wouldn’t hesitate to drag you in right beside him.

But…

But you saw him.

You saw what they did.

And there was no way in hell you were going to leave him warped code in some alley while they walked away without consequences.

Aaron turns his head a little, not with the sharp jerk of a machine but with a strange, unsettling grace like he’s mimicking a movement he’s studied a hundred times and is still unsure whether he’s doing it right.

“You’re quiet,” he says, and the sound of his voice filtered through layers of modulated synth rattles gently in your chest. It's flat, with the tiniest edge of curiosity beneath. “Regretting your decision already?”

You know he’s reading your vitals, cataloguing your heartbeat, noting every microexpression. Somehow, it still doesn’t feel invasive. It feels like he’s trying. Trying to understand something he was never programmed to feel.

“I don’t understand why you helped me,” he finally says. “I have a confirmed kill record in five sectors. I’ve dismembered things. I am not safe.”