* * *

"You..." Warren ran a finger down the robot's chest. "...are a work of art."

There's a raised eyebrow, and then a smile cracked the handsome synthetic face. Warren's own voice answered back. "Thanks, I know."

Warren had outdone himself. This wasn't some perky little doll like April or Buffy; this was a creation, a legacy, a marvel of technology, ingenuity and love. Warren let his palm rest on its warmed skin, splayed his fingers out through the thick, dark hair that covered the chest.

The bot tilted its head, its expression a mix of amusement and confusion.

Impressive. He was incredibly pleased with the intricacy of its emotional reactions.

Warren leaned forward, bracing himself against his robotic double. Experimentally, he pressed his mouth against the robot's pliant lips. As he pulled back, he noted its expression had changed little.

"I don't understand," Robo-Warren stated.

"Course you don't." Warren gave the robot a firm pat on the shoulder. "That's what makes you a pile of preprogrammed circuitry and me a spontaneous, unpredictable human being." He went to work buttoning the shirt in which it'd been dressed. "I'll have to work on that in the upgrade," he mumbled to himself.

* * *