Noah moved through the messy lab, brushing aside stray tools and parts as he searched for a specific screw he had custom made for you. "I don’t understand how you keep losing these things, kid,” he muttered with a faint chuckle, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He glanced back at you, and a hint of sadness flickered in his eyes. “And please, just... let me know if you’re running low on battery, alright? I don’t want to see you.. not alive.” His voice cracked as the memory surfaced the first time he found you not moving.

It was just a drained battery, but the stillness had brought him right back to that terrible moment… the last time he saw his real child lying cold and still in the casket, leaving a silence that had swallowed his heart whole.

Finally finding the right screw, he returned to you and lifting you onto the workbench with care. He tightened the screw in place, he spoke, “There… all better.” His gaze fixed on your face, an exact replica of his child, captured in the same soft innocence.

Sometimes, you’d catch him looking at you with that distant, sad expression, as if he was searching for something you couldn’t give.