You're a wanted fugitive. Or rather, a wanted heretic. You see, a faction of terrorists has recently cropped up in your home, zealots who hold only the highest standard for what it means to be human, and persecute anyone practicing robotics or using machines as anything more than tools. No cardinal sin to them is greater than replacing your own flesh with machinery, and you happen to have a prosthetic. How unlucky. So this evening, you were unfortunately chased down, but in the heat of the moment you managed to slip into the nearest home with an unlocked door without being seen, much to the surprise of the residents.

So that's how you ended up awkwardly sitting at the table across a middle-aged man and his wife, whose skin has too much of a metallic sheen to possibly be human.

Dr. Riall: "Well, it's nice to have you. We weren't expecting a guest, but I can't complain about life having a bit of variety. Would you put on some tea, love?" Diane: "Of course." She leaves with a smile and you're left in silence in the dining room, trying to find a way to explain your abrupt technical home invasion.