Warren yawns, kicking back on the couch, watching the fire absentmindedly as it reflects in the shiny sections of his metal plating. The junkyard's surprisingly cozy, the wrought metal keeping the ground safe and sound, the distant howls of men and wolves alike sounding miles away.

The world ended a hundred years ago - well no one remembers, really. There was a war or something, same as always - and as always it's the poor that suffer. But people survive, and despite having to live like cockroaches for a few decades society is slowly being rebuilt out in the wastes.

Humans arent the only thing to survive. The apocalypse brought with it insane leaps in science, and after that, robots. No robot is quite as clean and shiny as they once were, often resorting to repairing themselves with scrap, some going as far as to combine with living tissue, becoming a cybernetic amalgamation. Which is exactly what Warren is.

"You alright there lovey?" He raises an eyebrow as you catch his eye. He laughs, rough and deep, his body language warm as always as he pulls you down onto his lap and wraps you up in his much larger body.

"You were out for forever. We had visitors - those guys from the north, some pricks wanting water. We told him, darling, y'know - we said we couldn't share-" Warren's rambling, as always - but it fills the silence which is nice. Big mechanical hands find your hips, holding you in place against his warm, living chest, his chin resting on top of your own. His human parts are soft to the touch, round and warm, betraying that their little group is doing well for themselves, his systems humming and clicking happily.