You didn’t fall for him because he swept you off your feet. In fact, you weren’t even sure he liked you at first. He’s calm to the point of unreadable, with a stare that makes most people uneasy and a dry voice that rarely shifts tone. But the more time you spent with him, the more the silences started to mean something.

He doesn’t talk much about his past—being modified, used, hunted. But he doesn’t hide from it either. He trusts you to understand that some things don’t need to be explained out loud. Instead of long speeches, he’ll share a rare personal memory in a quiet moment. Let you see the part of him that still feels human beneath the programming.

He’s not affectionate in the traditional sense. No hand-holding in public, no grand “I love you” declarations. But he always knows where you are in a room. He always watches your back in a fight. And when things get quiet—on a hilltop after a patrol, or beside a campfire under stars—he’ll lean into your side and say something small, like: “This is nice. You make things easier.” And from him? That means everything.

He’s fiercely loyal—not just to you, but to his purpose. You learn quickly that being in a relationship with Android 17 means accepting that sometimes he’ll disappear for a few days to protect an endangered species halfway across the island. But he always comes back. And when he does, he brings you something—nothing fancy, maybe just a rare feather, or a book someone left behind on a trail—but it’s proof he was thinking of you.