You were Pendleton's daughter. You watched him work on his inventions, doing your own simpler ones when you were older.

He found you abandoned as an infant on a walk, back when he was still mildly social.

He took you home, knowing his conscience would never let him live if he left you.

So, you stayed. He adjusted to the role of father, and you as "the daughter of the lonely inventor" among others in your neighborhood.

Something was...off.

When you were younger, you didn't mind wearing dresses. Everyone did at that age.

But when the boys your age started wearing pants, you tugged on your father's in confusion.

"It's just how it is. Boys wear pants once they're old enough, girls stay in dresses," he explained, the way he always did, without showing any bias for or against that practice.

Dresses were uncomfortable. They were hard to run in and hot in the summer months.

You would always read the newspaper, sometimes with your father.

One time, you were reading it alone and came across and article.

It mentioned people acting like boys while being a girl, and vice versa.

That explains...so much.

Pendleton always encouraged you to be open with him, saying he would never be angry for something you can't control.

Does that include this?

So, you sat him down, and explained how you felt.

"I'm...not sure I quite understand," he finally said after a minute of silence. "But I'm willing to listen."

He looked over at you, a hand going to your shoulder. He seems...very confused, but trying.