The rest of the week goes by uneventfully— Barry has seen nor heard any mention of a rich snob looking for two missing droids, so he figures that he's in the clear on that front. When he's not dead tired from work, he tries to get work done on the bot still sitting on his table, little by little. It had sustained a lot of damage, more than he'd anticipated, and, with work in the way, things were slow-going. It didn't help he had to spend the first few days keeping an eye on its sibling.
Speaking of siblings, these two bots had the strangest bond he'd ever seen. He'd heard of jailbroken bots becoming close to each other, but these two seemed absolutely protective of each other. Whenever the functioning one got bored of the TV, it would hover over the other one, engaging it in conversation. At one point, he realized that the functioning one had actually dress the broken one in what he assumed to be a display of compassion. When he had been repairing the bot's eye and shaving its head to install its new hair, it had held the other's hand, squeezing gently whenever it let out a panicked noise.
By the start of the next week, both bots were up and running. Well, mostly. The bot that now had blonde hair and heterochromatic eyes, he nicknamed it One for now, suffered random spasms and had problems controlling its limbs at times— the spasms seemed to mark something wrong with its mainframe, but, when Barry had brought out the surgical tools, both it and its sibling had shrieked and hid, so fixing it seemed to be out of the question. He'd probably have to sell that one at a discount.
By the end of the second week, he learned something new about the bots: they like to cook.
It happened after work, after he picked up groceries to refill his dwindling supplies. The droids were sitting on his mostly unused couch, watching some strange cooking show when he starts putting away his groceries. It's not much— he liked to cook when he was younger, but he no longer had or made the time to cook like he used to. Bot One got off the couch and hovered over him, taking note of the things he'd bought. When he had stepped away to do something else in his workshop, he heard a clattering come from the kitchen and indignant beeping, prompting him to make sure the bots hadn't destroyed anything.
The bot was cooking.
Bot Two was splayed across the arms of the couch, watching as its sibling took ingredients out of his pantry and fridge and laid them out on the island counter. Barry leaned against the doorway, watching as it set to work with extreme focus. At times, Bot Two would beep something, and the other would either pause and change something about its recipe, or just beep something back at it.
Some time later, Bot One placed a well dressed turkey inside the oven (he'd planned to bake it for Magnus and Julia's Candlenights dinner, but oh well) and set a timer, then flopped back on the couch. Barry was still reeling— who had taught it to cook like that? Companion droids generally weren't taught to cook, because they tended to fuck things up for some reason manufacturers couldn't figure out. Perhaps it was a former owner? If that were the case, then why weren't they looking for the bot?
When the timer chimed, there came a loud knock from the door. Barry went to answer it and was surprised to find the boy detective behind it. "Angus? What are you doing out so late?"
"Well, sir, I was visiting Mr. Highchurch and Mr. Burnsides, so I thought I'd pop on by… Are you cooking something, sir?"
Barry glanced over his shoulder and said, "Uh, yeah. I made a turkey, but it's too big to eat by myself. How about you come downstairs and grab a few slices for the road?"
Angus beamed, looking like he might jump from happiness. "I'd love to, sir! Do you think I could see your workshop too?"
"I don't see why not," Barry said, moving to the side to let the child in. Once downstairs, he gave Angus a tour of his workshop, listening to the bot as it continued to move about his kitchen and giving the boy any explanations he wished about his tools. Finally, when it was time for Angus to leave, he guided him to the kitchen.
And everything went to hell.
For five terse seconds, Bot One locked eyes with Angus, slowly rounding the island to stand in front of him and crouch down. Although confused by this, neither Barry or Angus thought anything of this, and waited to see what it did next.
Tears began welling in its eyes— and, wow, he hadn't thought that was something bots could do— and it beeped at Angus, who gave Barry a worried look. It beeped again, gesturing at itself when it realized that the boy wasn't giving it the reaction it wanted.
"Uh, sir? Is something wrong with your bot?"
"I- I don't know! I- I've never seen it do this…"
Suddenly, Bot One grabbed Angus's shoulders, shaking him and beeping with ever increasing distress, as though it were screaming at him. Barry jumped into action, trying to pull the bot off the child, but it was no use; it wouldn't budge. The bot's voice was practically a shriek now, and its sibling jumped into action, helping Barry pull it off.
When Angus was released, he was frozen in place, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared at the distress robot. His tiny body was quaking, tail lifted straight into the air like a frightened cat, but made no move to run until Barry screamed at him to do so.
The bot screamed when Angus turned tail, its voice waking the neighbors, who peaked out their doors to see a young tiefling boy bolting out of the basement and through the front doors. Finally, it went limp in their arms, body shaking with sobs and hiccups. Bot Two beeped gently at it, taking it from Barry's arms and carrying it out into the workshop.
Barry stood in place for some time, trying to process what had happened. He'd never seen a bot react to anything like that— was their something wrong with its mainframe? Or… what if it was defective?