The distant rumble of thunder seeped through the lounge windows from outside, signalling the approach of bad overnight weather. Behind them a tiny persocom hugged her knees as she rocked sullenly back and forth on the armrest of the sofa, her miserable expression hidden by the darkness of the room. Titch moved slowly so as not to jostle the bell in her hair... She was the only one left awake, and right now she wanted it to stay that way. Chris had fallen asleep first, dozing off a few hours ago. He lay sprawled across the sofa, snoring contentedly. Ivy had soon collapsed beside him, propped up against the sofa on the floor. Earlier in the evening she'd said she would need to run another diagnostic overnight - something about worrying she might have ruined a few files. (Chris had laughed at that, remarking that he usually forgot stuff when drinking too.)

Although all was quiet in the house, Titch herself was in turmoil. Spending time with Chris should have been great, technically. But with Ivy there as well… it didn't feel right. It didn't feel how she wanted. In fact, Ivy had all but ruined it.

It was irritating, the way Ivy would have to be a part of every conversation. In fact, she would lead the conversation - no, actually she would grab it and run away with it, usually to somewhere whimsical and childish! Titch couldn't forgive the way her voice sounded when she spoke, either… it had an unbearably delightful lilt to it that made her own high-pitched squealing sound like a hamster being squeezed through an ice-cream dispenser. Titch wished her own voice could be even half that wonderful to listen to. She could change hers a little, certainly, but lower frequencies were too hard for her to reproduce on a continual basis.

That was annoying, yet even then, nothing, but nothing was as bad as the way Ivy kept touching Chris. Just a little brush of the arm, here and there. Or a playful poke. Or leaning against him as she laughed. It was all good-natured, Titch was sure, but it drove her crazy. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she couldn't stand it. They looked exactly like two regular people, just relaxing and having fun together, and that bothered her to no end. Wave after wave of activity washed over her neurologic processors as she sat there in thought; this time, she knew exactly what they meant.

Weeks of waiting to get Chris to take her seriously... and yet it was now more obvious than ever that she was basically invisible to him. Titch found herself reflecting on the facts she had been ignoring before. She was tiny. A little squeaky thing that merely parodied a human being on a 1:7 scale. There were all sorts of uncomfortable implications that followed on from this conclusion, and Titch was certain they would be enough to put a stop to any serious relationship, if it were ever possible to begin one in the first place. Even if Chris wanted to, he couldn't possibly think of her as another person. She just physically didn't qualify as one.

But Ivy? Oh, Ivy fit right in! At first Titch thought it was funny the way Chris had responded to her; all awkward and nervous, not sure what to say or do. Now she realised it was because Ivy did not look like a simple parody of a human woman. No, she was for all intents and purposes the real thing. That made Ivy very different to Chris, whether he acknowledged it consciously or not. Titch buried her head in her arms. She had never felt so inferior. Another distant roll of thunder came to her ears, as if the approaching storm wanted to emphasise her insignificance.

Oh, how infuriating! How could she have been so naive, to ever believe she and Ivy were on an even footing? It seemed shockingly obvious now. If she'd realised it to begin with, she'd have kept quiet and let Ivy fend for herself that first night instead of helping her to integrate. Not that it would've made a difference in the end, probably… Maybe she was telling herself that because it made her regret her decisions a little less, but more than likely it was true. Perhaps some things were just meant to be. Yes: meant to be shitty and horrible.

Titch sighed. Ivy even belonged to Chris, unlike her. She knew that shouldn't matter. It was a silly thing, really. Titch definitely wouldn't want to belong to anyone, anyway. She already didn't, as it happened; NEIS was not a person, it was a business entity. But if she had a choice… oh, it was stupid, but it was yet another connection to Chris she felt she didn't have. Ivy belonged to him. Even the word was excruciating! It almost felt like a prophetic statement on where things were going, like an ominous portent carved into stone.

Her logic loop thrummed, cycling over her complex thoughts so quickly she could feel her body heating up inside, but try as she might Titch couldn't force the activity down. She couldn't silence the noise. If she didn't do something, she felt like she was going to explode! The urge to scream was just indescribable. She actually considered powering down her speech synthesis system, just in case.

So this is true frustration, huh?

Titch scowled, continuing her internal struggle. The more she thought about this, the more she began to feel angry. The thunder broke closer now, accentuating her thoughts. Why should she be the one feeling this way? Chris must have figured out she wanted to be friends long before they had that argument. He must have. Surely he guessed? Wasn't it obvious, the way she'd behave around him? In that case, he was ignorant and mean for not acting on it... and more so for not noticing this new development as well!

Maybe he hadn't known, though. Maybe he didn't realise. Perhaps that was to be expected really: he was an idiot, after all. She was convinced she knew Chris better than he knew himself. Yes, how could he possibly know what was best for him? That bloody moron could hardly dress himself in the mornings. Bastard.

No, he was too stupid to be blamed. This was somehow all Ivy's fault... that persocom was taking Chris from her. Her processors cycled furiously at that.

There was nothing to do about it… But she would do something anyway, just to spite them! Yeah, why should she just accept it? Clearly talking to Chris wasn't going to be enough though; no, actions spoke louder than words. She would do something… something… But what? Her processors chewed the matter over with intensity, generating and rejecting dozens of different suggestions.

Whatever it was, it had to be bold. It had to communicate her intentions while leaving no room for doubt, because Chris was denser than a bucket of lead and Ivy was a shameless vixen who wouldn't even take notice if the message wasn't clear. She grimaced, trying to force the image of the two of them from her thoughts. It was agony to consider. She would stamp that out! She had to! It hurt too much to do anything else!

Maybe, if she…

Titch gasped as the idea occurred to her. It seemed wrong at first, but try as she might she couldn't banish it, and soon she was smiling wickedly. Actually it would do nicely. It would make her feelings abundantly clear. She'd even sort of get what she really wanted, wouldn't she? Better yet, it was technically harmless… technically. Titch considered the data hurriedly. There were many points of contention, it appeared, but she was desperate now, and she ignored them, reasoning them away. How important were those issues anyway, in light of how she was feeling? Because this felt almost indescribable, and it had to stop. Now was definitely the time to be selfish. She'd worry about the consequences when they were relevant. It would probably even turn out okay, wouldn't it? Right? What was the harm in it? How mad could they be at her really, in the long term?

Titch watched carefully, making sure both Chris and Ivy were unresponsive. Knowing what she planned to do, she began to experience intense waves of exhilaration. They overrode her misery, replacing it with a burning excitement. She was dimly aware of a sensation that she should stop, but it was quashed by her overwhelming anticipation. Maybe it was logical not to go through with this, but as she slid stealthily from her perch on the sofa she realised she just didn't care any more.