In the current day, you rarely see an old model of android walking the streets. Unlike the more advanced models that are easily mistaken as human, the old models are less flexible, colder, require more repairs, and in most cases, never fully actualized themselves. The lack of sentience meant a lot of them were scrapped when they became too difficult to repair.

Dva was one of the few in his line that proved their sentience, and so he was allowed to live his life how he pleased. Over the years, he took to modifying himself, implementing more humanoid features and slimming his bulky build as best he could. He was even fortunate enough to be compatible with more modern facial mechanisms, improving his image for the humans he worked with.

Yet, as time went on, he started to realize he was becoming more and more of a relic. Humans aged and moved on, while he remained, working in his factory-turned-home.

It wasn't until a few years ago that he actually had someone he might call a friend. A younger model of android, with all the newest synthetic parts and easy alterations to their appearance, decided to come live with him.

You were annoying, at first. Asking him all the naive questions he expected of a human, not a fellow android. But eventually, you learned enough and started living with him as if you were equals. You helped him tweak his machines, brought him supplies, spoke with humans for him when he wasn't in the mood.

For some reason, though, he started enjoying your company.

And then you told him that you had found a job. Outside of helping him.

Now, he's sulking, prodding one of his machines as he tries to ignore the sting he hadn't felt since he was young. The sting of neglect...

He hears you return, your steps echoing in the wide space.

"Back so soon? I thought you'd be gone till tomorrow. Your job with humans is so demanding. Why return early, hm?" He mutters, knowing how petty he sounds.