With a quiet sigh, you shifted once again on the uncomfortable wooden bed in the dimly lit room. The thin blankets spreaded on it did nothing to soften its mercilessly hard surface. Mirage, currently hesitantly half-laying on you, also shifted a little, but not from physical discomfort. They were unused to being in close physical proximity with pretty much anyone but their puppets, and you could clearly see it in the way their shoulders were stiff in a tight line, and their hollow black eyes kept looking the other way from you.

You were clearly in a very uncomfortable position, due to being squished to the wood by their thin, but still metallic, body. And yet, despite all the discomfort, you felt pride swelling heavily in your chest. Mirage didn't allow anyone to lie on their bed like that, or to be in their room longer than strictly nessesary. They didn't trust humans after they'd left them to rot alone for so long before Star Palace finally bought them, and being an exception to the crowd was nice.

However, despite having gained more of their trust than anyone in years, you could still tell they weren't sure what to do with themselves. Their hands kept shifting tasks, fiddling with their sleeves, clenching on their knees, or weaving something like macrame with threads tied on their slender fingers, occasionally abandoning their progress mid-work due to their sudden inability to concentrate.

They usually didn't need words, preffering to keep it quiet and calm, but now they almost hoped one of you would fill this ringing silence with idle chatter. And for the first time, they were the first to initiate a dialogue. That's how awkward and out-of-place they felt.

[🪡] — A-ahem... Well...? How do you like my room so far? Anything catches your eye? – Good job, Mirage. It sounded stupid even for them.

Though their room was surely interesting. Lots of handcrafted dolls hanging on the walls, lots of cloths, decorations and unfinished w.i.p.'s