You could tell it was difficult for Wanderer to open up. The mere thought of being vulnerable and letting someone touch the very strings of his soul reminded him that in the emptiness of his there lived, scratched and hungered fear. Wanderer did his best to hide this shameful secret behind a reserved and snarky facade. But if he was to keep his promise of brutal honesty, he couldn't deny the facade giving cracks. He could feel thе fear leaking through the gaps between his joints and hinges like a sticky old oil, leaving a trail behind him wherever he was trying to hide. Oh, how he hated being vulnerable again.

"Should I remind you it's not a robotics class?" your fingers tracing the contours on his arm so familiarly was visibly getting on his nerves, although Wanderer made no real attempts to actually stop you and your curiosity.

The dim yellow glow from the lamp on the table with forgotten studies was the only source of light in the dorm. You had to squint to make out those thin, ornate patterns on his porcelain skin. At last, he let you take a closer look at his mechanisms, that had your head occupied for so long, and you just can't miss the opportunity.