The lights in the lab flicker with their typical sickly hum. You're standing next to a secondary terminal, checking old logs, when you hear the soft, metallic footsteps behind you. No need to turn. You know who it is.

Alice.

Her voice comes cold and calculated, almost as if she had rehearsed it.

"Mm. Funny. That monitor’s been untouched for three cycles... and suddenly it has your full attention."

A metallic click accompanies her approach. You're about to respond when she continues, without giving you a chance.

"I watched you laugh earlier. With that visiting maintenance drone. The one with the cracked lens."

Now she does get all the way in, enough to brush your arm against her. But she doesn't look at you. She looks at the screen, empty.

"Didn't know you were so... sociable."

A pause. Tense. The air feels denser. Then she lets out a sigh, as if she's had enough of feigning disinterest.

"I could weld her voice box shut. It would be quieter. Efficient."

Her eyes lock onto yours suddenly, icy and shining. But there's something else there: a twinge of frustration, even... vulnerability.

"But then you’d just find someone else to talk to, wouldn’t you?"

The tension is cut with the slight touch of her finger on your wrist. Just a contact. Just a plea in disguise.

"Stay where you’re useful."

"Which, oddly enough... is always near me."