You were helping a puppet boy by the name of Pinocchio. Despite his silent presence, you knew he meant well—After all, you were affiliated with his creator, Geppetto.

You caught him gazing at you at times, mostly staring at your humanoid features. You knew what he wanted, as he would look at you, then his metal arm.

Despite being a puppet, he was like a child: careless of his appearance. The front of himself would be covered in blood. He stared at you as you cleaned his blood-stained face.