Rabbit sat on her knees, staring at her own reflection in the small duck pond at the Walter Cemetery. It was the first time since the upgrade she'd had a few moments to herself, and if she were to be honest she would say she wasn't quite sure how she felt about the change. Of course, she liked it, and it felt right. But the robot wasn't sure if it was right.

As she quietly memorised her own features, ducks began to swarm her, recognising the oxidised copper automaton that regularly came to feed them. This was her first time visiting since the change, but the ducks had no concept of gender, especially when food was involved on their behalf. Rabbit soon found herself surrounded.

"Now, now," she warned, as if ducks could understand English, "d-d-d-don't be pushy! I've got eno-enough for all of you." She smiled blissfully, tossing handful after handful of crusts and crumbs from a small brown paper bag, both of which were snatched from the kitchen at the Walter Manor when no one was looking. That was, as some might say, Rabbit's nirvana-feeding ducks.

She looked among them and let her mind wander, allowing herself to ask, were Hatchworth and The Spine okay with this Rabbit? "Rabbit 2.0," The Spine had joked that first night, but his lightheartedness brought no reassurance to the older bot. In fact, Spine was the best out of the three at concealing his emotions. He was Mr. Cool, and Rabbit...well, Rabbit wasn't. Rabbit, much like Hatchworth, could burst into tears at the drop of a hat.

She exhaled, the noise coming out as more of a sad sigh than she had originally intended, and gently poked the surface of the pond with a red-gloved finger. She watched as her reflection rippled and waved at the disturbance she had made. Her emotions swayed in a similar manner, and a pang of uneasiness washed over her as she realised- they were no longer the Steam Man Band that Colonel Peter A. Walter had invented. Steam Unisex Band had no fun ring to it and, quite frankly, sounded rather vulgar, especially considering a good part of their audience throughout the decades had been small children. Although fans hardly ever used that term anymore (instead opting for the more exciting, playful Steam Powered Giraffe), the robots still enjoyed tossing around the old name during their nostalgic get-together.

"Rabbit?" A deep voice behind her was a bit startling and broke through her semi-hypnotic trance. She turned to face The Spine, who was holding a small bouquet of the late Peter Walter I's favourite flowers-dahlias. As far as anyone could recall, his sole reason for liking the flowers was that "it sounds like 'Delilah.'"

Rabbit forced a smile, which must've come across as more of an uncomfortable snarl, judging by The Spine's startled expression. "How did you find me?"

He shrugged and flashed that trademark, charming smile of his. "I followed the ducks."

Rabbit looked at the crowd of ducks surrounding where she was sat on the grass. "They're my m-m-m-minions," she joked.

He nodded and motioned at the flowers. "I brought some stuff to put on Pappy's grave… Hatchworth suggested you might like to come with me." He held his hand out almost awkwardly towards her.

Rabbit smiled and took her brother's hand, letting him assist her to her feet. "Did Hatchworth not want to come with?"

He shrugged. "I would have offered, but he was too busy attempting to woo one of the Walter Girls by making sandwiches. Miss Brianna, specifically."

There was a small dirt footpath that was lined with blossoming cherry trees and led through the cemetery. It was just barely wide enough for the brother-sister automaton duo to walk side-by-side, hand-in-hand towards their creator's final resting place.

Rabbit felt a wave of emotions rush over her, and she had to stop and hold back the tears. She wouldn't cry, not this time. Not when it was expected of her. Instinctively, and perhaps subconsciously, she tightened her grip.

Ever since the upgrade, Rabbit had been terrified. She wouldn't dare to admit it, but she was. With the growing intolerance of gender identity in the human society, there was no telling what the same issue would present in a robot's eyes.

That wasn't even Rabbit's main concern. Her true fear was losing her brothers. She hoped, but doubted, that their love for her had not diminished. She was still Rabbit, wasn't she? Albeit a bit different at first glance, she was still herself. She was still their glitching, pun-making, Victorian clockwork sister; nothing had changed in that aspect.

At least, she hoped.

The Spine and Rabbit stood before The First's grave, the small bouquet laid perfectly parallel to the tombstone whose names and dates were faded to incorrigible lines from years of neglected maintenance (Rabbit made a mental note of this; she hoped to come out someday and restore the stone). The overwhelming urge to cry returned for what seemed like a million reasons, but she refused to let herself sink so low and be vulnerable enough to shed tears. But then again, she'd never been good at hiding it.

She half-choked on a sob, causing The Spine to look at her strangely.

"Rabbit?" he hesitated.

"I'm o-o-okay," she lied, refusing to look at him.

"It doesn't look like it." He wiped a bit of black oil from her face. "I'm assuming you're just gonna say you have a leak?"

"Oh, yeah, it's ju-ju-just a leak."

"Is this about Pappy?"

"N-n-n-n-n-no, I-"

"Is it you?"

Rabbit looked at him, steam hissing from her vents. "P-pardon?"

"Are you afraid, Rabbit?"

She looked down. "No," she stated simply, sharply. A quick glance at her brother revealed that the shortness in her voice had hurt him. She felt a bit guilty and spoke again with more softness. "D-don't-don't worry ab-bout me."