Today marked Whitley's second month of working with the good doctor, and… he wasn't sure what it was that he was expecting.

His daily life hadn't been upended as he thought it might, but it hadn't been the same either. In the mornings, Whitley did exactly as he used to, preparing and exercising the exact same ways. But somewhere just after his lunch, Whitley would break to do a short study before getting up and… leaving. Leaving the manor, his responsibilities, his fears.

All to just come back to the pharmacy and work.

What a strange concept. Work.

Whitley didn't need to work a day in his life. He was the son of the richest man in Atlas, next in line to inherit the most powerful company on the planet. Yet here he was, sitting in front of a wooden table, piecing together strange mechanisms of a mechanical origin, following a series of instructions and blueprints.

And all the while he did that, he could feel a pair of eyes staring down at him.

A pair of bright, innocent green eyes.

"Yes, Penny?" He asked, not bothering to look up from his work as he slowly began attaching push-and-pull mechanisms to a metallic ball. A joint attached to a greater length of metal, all vaguely shaped like a human arm. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He heard Penny, like always, humming to herself. He was sure she had her plastered-on smile as well. "Not particularly, no. I suppose I'm just curious."

"Whatever about?" Whitley curled a brow, connecting the joint to a soft pad, running the ball along it to feel everything rotating properly. "You know more about your body than I do."

"Why would I be curious about my body?"

Whitley looked up from the arm, staring up at Penny, her limp form from the wall. Her head was attached to a metallic torso, her shoulders having been smoothed down and repaired. A pair of legs clung to what would have been hip sockets on a human being, watching as they swayed back and forth. All that was missing was Penny's right arm.

He huffed, shaking his head. "Nevermind, then. If you'll excuse me, I'll be getting back to my work."

Penny hummed, like always. Curious, that. Just what did a machine gain from humming, he wondered? Was it just another form of acknowledgment, or had Doctor Polendina simply added that as a feature, to show whenever her processors were in use? Whitley wasn't sure - the lengths of Penny's cognitive functions were still lost on him.

Even so, he quickly finished repairing the last of the arm, slipping on a thin… film, he supposed, colored the same pale color as the rest of Penny's 'skin.' He went about a quick series of checks, rotating the arm at the wrist, elbow, and finally up where the arm would connect to Penny's deltoid-adjacent-

Click-click-click.

Whitley sighed, quickly unraveling the skin on the arm. "I must have overtightened it somewhere."

"Ooh," Penny's voice was full of wonder, flicking his eyes up to see her eyes sparkling. "You understood that from something as simple as the clicking? That's very interesting!"

Whitley snorted, against his better judgment. "Hardly," he shrugged, holding a screwdriver in his hand before getting back to the joint. "Don't forget, Penny, I've been working on your limbs - this arm, at least - for the past month. I'd like to think I know it well enough to recognize the sound."

Whitley expected a variety of things, frankly. He expected a hum, or perhaps a laugh from the machine. After all, if there was something he'd come to expect from its algorithms, it was hums and laughter.

Instead, he was met with silence.

Turning his head up, he watched as Penny tilted her head to the side to the left - the only side she could really tilt it to, frankly. "You've gotten accustomed to working on my body?"

Whitley paused his work, a burning heat rushing to his face. Was he coming down with a fever? "Don't… phrase it like that, Penny. It sounds crass."

"Does it?"

"It does." Whitley shook off the heat, working on the limb a moment longer before rotating the joint at her elbow. Blissful silence, the ideal sound of a functioning joint.

Penny hummed again. "What makes it sound crass?"

He sighed as he set the screwdriver aside, sliding Penny's 'skin' over the metallic arm. It started like a glove, neatly fitting and creasing over the metallic fingers, trailing up along the wrist and forearm around the thick wire frame of the arm to give the illusion of muscle. The skin came just short of the thick pad that formed the faux-deltoid.

"It just does, Penny. Believe me on this." Whitley wasn't about to explain to a machine just why the implication of him 'knowing her body' sounded wrong. "Now then, can you shift your chassis a bit? Just enough to give me clearance of your right shoulder?"

He watched as Penny complied, taking her arm into his hands before stepping up to her. The pad of the 'deltoid' formed neatly against her shoulder, a loud click filling the room as Whitley quickly pulled the skin along Penny's neck down over her shoulder-

"Ah," Penny's shoulder tensed. "That tickles!"

Whitley stared up at the machine for a moment, his brows furrowed. I'll have to speak to Doctor Polendina about that function later. Just what good was it for Penny to have such a light touch sensor for? The more he explored the project, the higher that numbers in his mind went. Mass production is going to be expensive if all of these features remain.

The sound of whirring gyros snapped Whitley from his thoughts, looking down to see Penny moving the arm. It was slow, deliberate, as if she was flexing muscles in her fingers and forearm. Her thumb made slow rotations, then her index, middle, ring, and pinkie.

"Curious," her voice was quiet, looking up at her to see her brows furrowed. As if she were actually annoyed by something. "I remember having more control over my body than this. Muscle atrophy, perhaps?"

Whitley chuckled to himself, bringing a hand to his mouth. "Penny, I don't… Yes, Penny, you've clearly suffered muscle atrophy." How she could suffer muscle atrophy without any muscles, he didn't know. But it was amusing all the same. "Excuse me a moment, I'll go grab the Doctor. After that, we'll-"

"I'll be able to walk?" Penny cut him off, a bright smile on her face as she pulled against the wires that kept her form restrained against the wall. "Oh, please say yes! I've been wanting to see the flowers for so long!"

To… walk? What was this machine, a dog? It wanted constant attention, was openly friendly and affectionate, and wanted to go for a walk. Yes, Whitley couldn't think of anything better than to describe her like a dog.

"We'll see," was all Whitley could say, stepping back from her chassis before making his way to the only door in the room. "If the Doctor isn't busy with patients, then I'll ask for his advice. But I make no guarantees."

He didn't get a response from Penny as he pulled open the plain wooden door, stepping through before hearing it click shut behind him.

Whitley felt a sigh slip past his lips, rubbing the bridge of his nose. How a machine can have so much character, I'll never know. He thought, making his way past the many sheets that separated each of the patients beds from one another. All unoccupied, thankfully. It would be a busy day otherwise. One would think minimizing her personality would save on space for more productive processes.

Then again, that was something that Whitley didn't quite understand yet. The mechanical pieces he understood - it was just like how the human form worked, after all. A series of pulleys and joints working together to move a greater object. All Whitley had to do was find out which piece made what, and form them into a pulley, or a joint. But what went on in Penny's programming, he'd never know.

Stepping into the waiting room, Whitley watched as the Doctor waved off yet another patient, a brown paper bag in their hand as they stepped out of the door.

Whitley clasped his hands behind him, making his way to the desk. "Doctor," nodding as he spoke, Whitley made sure to give him a brief smile. To keep up appearances, of course. "I believe that I've finished assembling her arm, and have decided to attach it. Would you mind reviewing my work?"

Doctor Polendina, sitting behind the front desk, pulled his cane from its leaning position. "Well of course, Whitley." Groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. Whitley had to keep himself from stepping around the desk to help him up. Didn't want to look down on him now, did he? "Now then, let's go see how she's shaping up, shall we?"

Whitley only gestured behind him, following the Doctor to the door. The aged floorboards creaked loudly as they made their way across the room, something that Whitley had half a mind to do something about. He may not have had the skills to replace the boards, but he had the money to pay for someone else to do it.

But that was neither here nor there.

Whitley stuck close to the Doctor. In case he needed him to run an errand, of course. It had nothing to do with Doctor Polendina's hand shaking against his wooden cane.

The rhythmic tapping of his cane continued until they reached the door to the back room-

A loud crash came from the other side of the door, feeling the vibrations trailing up his legs. Had someone broken in? Not likely, there was only one way into the procedure room, and that was the patient room. Then that naturally meant-

The ceiling.

Whitley grabbed the door handle without thinking, flinging the door open. "Penny, are you-" Whitley's voice caught in his throat, staring across the room to find Penny's once suspended and restrained form against the floorboard. She kneeled there on her hands and knees, a look of deep confusion on her face. "...What are you doing?"

He watched Penny look up, a smile on her face as her arms shook. "Oh, Whitley, Father, thank goodness! I… my wires, I was trying to adjust them to make myself more comfortable, but then- hic!" She paused, her mouth snapping shut. "They ended up getting tangled - hic! Then I fell."

Whitley heard wood tap against wood, looking over his shoulder to see Doctor Polendina raising a brow. "Penny," he started, a small smile on his face. "What were you really trying to do, hm?"

Penny sat in silence for a moment, her arms shaking as though the rest of her body weighed several tons. Which it very well could have, frankly. Whitley wasn't sure.

"...I was getting restless waiting."

Whitley blinked, his brows furrowing deeply. "Wha- restless? I was only out for a minute." Perhaps one of her computing functions was flawed? Some kind of algorithm made with the express intent of committing to decisive actions? An interesting hypothesis. "Regardless, you should have waited. You could have damaged your arm, or-"

He felt an arm come to rest on his shoulder. "She's fine, Whitley." The Doctor said, laughing as he gave him a quick pat. "She's made of sterner stuff than that, aren't you, Penny?"

Penny smiled. "That's right!"

To emphasize her point, her arms gave out beneath her, leading her to land face-first against the floor.

Whitley sighed, shaking his head as he made his way over to her, kneeling next to her. "Alright, let's see if we can't get you in the seat, shall we." Without much thinking, Whitley shifted her chassis to the side, if only to sling her arm over his shoulder. "Okay, and three, two, and-"

Whitley jumped to his feet, expecting to be weighed down by her metallic chassis. But instead, she was… surprisingly light. Not like a feather, no, but certainly not the hundreds of pounds of steel that he expected. If she was even made of steel at all.

He heard Penny's laughter drift into his ear, feeling her lean against him as she smiled. "Oh my, I wasn't expecting you to pick me up so quickly."

Whitley only cleared his throat, moving her towards the central seat in the room as she dragged her feet. Though he doubted it was on purpose. "You simply weighed less than I expected, that's all."

He watched as Penny's smile died a little from the corner of his eyes, watching as she looked down at herself. "...I'm very self-conscious all of a sudden."

"Oh, please." Whitley rolled his eyes, helping her onto the operating seat.

A deep, baritone laugh filled the room, followed by the sound of wood tapping against wood. "If you two are done flirting, I'd like to have a look at your arms and legs, Penny."

Whitley only stepped aside, making way for the Doctor. Flirting? Him? With a machine? Perish the thought. The very notion of the idea was embarrassing in itself. Just what kind of man could Whitley claim to be if he were to fall for a machine that couldn't even think for itself?

He watched as Doctor Polendina did his checks, much in the same way that Whitley did his own earlier, rotating Penny's extremities at the joints, pushing and pulling them along for any abnormalities. The Doctor had a strangely focused expression on his face, one that Whitley rarely saw. The only time Doctor Polendina had such a deeply furrowed brow was when he was working on prosthetics.

Everything seemed to be going well though. Penny's legs extended and retracted easily, no sounds of clicking or scraping. Her left arm rotated well, as if it had never left her. Whitley held his breath as the Doctor got to Penny's right arm, starting from the shoulder.

Click-click-click.

The Doctor chuckled. "You've overdone the connection of the joint to the shoulder again."

Whitley bowed his head forward, closing his eyes. "Forgive me, Doctor. I tested the elbow earlier, but it hadn't even dawned on me to check the shoulder. Hold a moment, I'll do it right this-"

"It's fine, Whitley." Doctor Polendina raised his hand from Penny's arm, holding out his wrinkly palm. "You're still learning, so there's no reason to be so self-critical." Wasn't there? What good was the excuse of learning if he could apply the teaching? At that point, he was only hearing, but not listening. "Just leave this to me, alright?"

Even so, Whitley raised his head, clasping his hands behind him. "As you say, Doctor."

He watched as the good Doctor turned back to the machine, adjusting parts of the arm for a moment before reaching into his lab coat. Whitley's brows furrowed as the Doctor pulled a screwdriver from his pocket, pulling Penny's 'skin' down from her shoulder, slipping the screwdriver through a crack in her frame.

A loud trio of clicks filled the room again, each more quiet than the last. Whitley closed his eyes to listen, only for… silence. Opening his eyes, he watched as Doctor Polendina slipped Penny's skin back over the arm, fingers twitching on the mechanical hand. Penny's arm moved from the 'elbow' up, silently rising and falling. Then came her shoulder, rotating it.

Silence.

Whitley sighed.

"Well," Doctor Polendina began, pocketing his screwdriver. "I do believe that all of your basic functions are reestablished. Can you move your legs?"

Penny's leg twitched, much like the fingers on her hand. Whitley paused, tilting his head as he watched her slowly pull her leg towards her, stopping as her 'calf' ran parallel to her 'thigh.'

Her green eyes constricted and dilated as she stared down at her leg - like a camera lens, trying to focus. The leg came back down to a resting position, lying flat against the seat beneath her. Even so, the expression that Penny displayed wasn't one of her usual… cheeriness, he supposed. No, this expression was neutral with furrowed brows. Not confusion, but something else.

Apprehension? No, for what purpose would a machine be programmed to have fear? Frustration? Perhaps the lack of progress was getting to it. Yes, Whitley could see that. That felt logical.

"I…" Penny started, only for her words to trail off. Whitley watched as she stared up at the Doctor. "My motor functions are suboptimal, Father. Can I walk like this?"

Doctor Polendina hummed, standing next to her seat as his wrinkly hand stroked his thick beard. "I suppose we'll have to see, won't we?" Whitley watched as the old man's brows shot upwards - a sign of an interesting idea forming behind his mind. "Whitley, would you mind helping Penny out of her seat? I have a theory I'd like to test."

Whitley curled a brow, but he complied all the same, stepping past the Doctor as he made his way around the operating seat. Bringing a hand beneath Penny's back, he slowly forced her upright until her feet were on the floor. He pulled his hand away, if only to see if she could keep herself upright.

When she didn't teeter over, he brought a hand under her arm, and another on her hand-

"Oh!" Penny stared down at her hand, tilting her head to the side. "Holding hands? And so soon? How very interesting."

Whitley blinked, turning to look at the Doctor. But the Doctor only laughed, keeping a hand on his cane. Honestly, just what good was it to give a machine that was built for security a program like that?

With a sigh, Whitley hoisted Penny to her feet- a sudden pressure landed against his side, but he didn't buckle. Penny leaned against him, her legs shaking like leaves in the wind, but her smile? It was like the sun had dimmed in comparison.

Just how much warmth can some stick into a machine? It didn't make sense by any metric. I suppose I'll have to chalk it up to Doctor Polendina's eccentricities.

"It's as I thought," the Doctor said, smiling as he stroked his beard. "Penny, just how much output are you putting into your legs?"

Penny only hummed, looking down at the ground.

Whitley's brows furrowed, glancing over at the old man. "What does that mean, Doctor?"

Doctor Polendina shook his head, a light shimmering behind his eyes. "It means, dear Whitley, that Penny is afraid of her arms and legs."

"I am not afraid of myself." Penny cut in, a serious expression on her face. "I just… I don't want to hurt anyone while I get used to moving again."

Ah, so that's what it was! Her program was explicitly made with the intent of minimizing collateral damage! It wasn't frustration or apprehension, it was concern.

"That makes sense," Whitley mumbled, nodding his head. Honestly, it was quite impressive as far as programming was concerned, and Whitley had zero experience in the field. To think someone could program a machine to have such a human concern was impressive. "Then what shall we do? If Penny can't walk, then…" What good was the project?

But Doctor Polendina hardly seemed concerned, waving him off. "She can walk just fine, she just needs to remember how." A hum reverberated at the back of his throat as he stroked his bear. Then his smile widened. "Whitley, would you mind taking Penny for a walk?"

…What?

The streets of Mantle were cold. No colder than usual, thankfully, but still cold. Enough for Whitley to tightly wrap his lab coat around himself, all in the vain hope that it might just save him a shred of heat. A weight hung from his arm, watching as a mass of orange hair bobbed next to him.

How it was that he got stuck dog-sitting, Whitley would never know.

Penny walked in the loosest in the term, her arms wrapped around his as she barely managed to get one foot in front of the other, her joints shaking with each step, all the while hidden beneath a heavy winter coat and thick pants. But her smile had never been so bright, her green eyes zipping to and fro to every sight. Every cracked brick, every piece of littered garbage, every shard of broken glass, every passing rust-bucket car - Whitley knew it all caught her eye.

Even so, it… Whitley couldn't help but find a shred of charm in it. Like a child seeing the world for the first time. Or like a dog trying to sniff anything it could find, if only to learn more.

Yes, that felt right. Like a dog. An overly excited, mentally underdeveloped pet.

Whitley felt a tug against his arm as he walked beneath the little light he could find on the street. Looking over, he watched as Penny's already wide smile widened all the more.

"Whitley," she started, her green eyes dilating as she stared at him. No, they were refocusing, obviously. "Is it true that when people are friends, you want to learn more about them?"

Whitley's brows furrowed. That was an odd question to ask, especially from a machine.

He shrugged. "Or so it is said. Why?"

"Are there any questions you have for me?" Penny asked, her tone light and energetic in equal measure. "I'm capable of answering any question you might have for me, so don't hold back if you have them. I'm question-ready!"

To prove her point, he felt one of her arms loosely unraveled from his own, snapping to her forehead- a metallic clang rang out, watching as Penny bit her tongue.

Whitley watched her leg buckle beneath her and did the only thing he could think to do, hoisting her up as pulling her closer. "Careful, Penny! You'll damage yourself doing things like that."

"Ow…" Penny mumbled, her hand limply rubbing the spot on her forehead that she'd so loudly hit. "But yes, questions?"

Did Whitley even have any questions he wanted answered? A couple, yes, but at the risk of having to deal with Penny's overwhelmingly friendly algorithms? How annoying.

Whitley shifted his arm, if only so that it felt a little more comfortable as Penny leaned against him. "Then, if you don't mind, what is it that causes you to respond the way that you do?"

"How do you mean?" Penny tilted her head to the side. Perhaps he wasn't clear enough.

"I mean," Whitley started, clearing his throat. "What is the process that you go through, receiving an input of stimuli, reacting to it, and then managing to respond in such a way that keeps you seeming polite and friendly? Is it a series of complex algorithms, or something else?"

He watched as Penny's bright smile faded, a thoughtful expression taking to her as she shambled alongside him. He felt snow crunch beneath his loafers. "I've never given it much thought, honestly. I've simply answered the way that made me happiest." Her thoughtful expression cracked to reveal a small smile, less than half as bright as her typical. Yet, to Whitley, it felt like it conveyed so much more.

There was confusion, hesitation, and strangely enough, hope, all bundled up in a facsimile of muscles stretching and pulling in such a way to form a grin. But there weren't any muscles on Penny's face. There was metal, and little else.

Yet it felt so real.

Whitley shook his head. "I see. Then tell me about your other core functions. How do you… work, I suppose?" There were probably more formal and graceful words to use, but few would be so candid.

Penny's smile fell again, watching as she shook her head. "I work like anyone else. My chassis converts biological matter into energy via a- well, Father told me that it's like when a human eats food. I take the energy from biological matter, and I convert it into something usable."

Whitley blinked. "Is that why you have teeth? Because your 'stomach' can't convert something without it being pieced into something smaller?"

"No, I can." Penny corrected, nodding as she giggled. "But life is better when you can chew, wouldn't you say? And taste, too!"

"You can taste?"

"I can."

He watched as Penny nodded before turning forward. They were at a crosswalk now, old cars with faded paint and rust slowly passing by. The sun had set hours ago, like it always did. Not because of the winter, but because that was simply how Atlas and Mantle were. The tip of the world was simply above the sun, he supposed.

Whitley let out a breath, watching as it turned to condensation, becoming nothing more than vapor. A shiver shot up his spine, but he dealt with it. He was a Schnee, and the cold had never once been his enemy. He would survive it.

He felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning down, he watched as Penny pointed limply down the street. "Would you mind if we took a detour? I'd like to see the park before we go back."

The park? Whitley didn't even know Mantle had a park, let alone where it was. But it was clear to him that Penny did. Now all that remained was whether or not he wanted to follow. Just what was there to gain from going there?

He could always ask more about Penny? Learn more of her core processes and features. Yes, that sounded right. The more he knew about her processes, the better he could take part in the project. And the better he did in the project, the longer he could be away from home.

"Fine," Whitley gestured down the road. "Lead the way, and be mindful of broken glass."

Penny only dragged him along, slow as she was. It was as simple as walking down the street, listening as the cars slowly passed by, whipping the freezing air at them. Or rather, at him. He doubted Penny could feel the cold anyway.

But there was something odd that he noticed, walking down the street and towards this strange metallic arch, surrounded by a low brick wall. His arm - the right one, at least - felt warm. The arm that Penny was using and leaning against to keep stable. Was Penny warm, or was it perhaps just the fact that part of his body heat had transferred onto her?

That wasn't something he got an answer to, following Penny through the steel arch and along a concrete pathway. To either side of them was a thin white layer of powder over still-visible green grass. The snow was denser in some areas than others, and the trees in the park had lost their leaves, but even so, it was hardly dreary. At least, to Whitley.

There was more color in the park than he could count in all of the Schnee Manor. Nothing could ever be more dreary and bleak than that.

Taking another step, he felt the weight on his arm grow heavy. A scraping sound, and then Whitley couldn't move. Looking down, he watched as Penny stared up at him, her knees having buckled beneath her.

"Ah," she started, laughing to herself. "Would you mind if we took a break? I'm not used to moving this much anymore."

Whitley sighed, kneeling down to wrap her arm over his shoulders. He picked Penny back up with ease, something that he was getting surprisingly good at. Though something else caught his mind. He'd never paid it any attention before, but… Penny felt soft. Not in the way that a pillow would, but more like silk. And it wasn't just her coat, he knew that much.

Shaking his head, Whitley's eyes scanned the path. A wooden bench, little more than a few dozen steps away. He slowly made his way towards it, taking short steps to make sure that Penny wouldn't fall again. If she did, he was sure he'd go with her. Better to be safe.

He carefully brought her to the bench, gently setting her down before helping her adjust as needed. She sat with her legs pressed together, hands sitting atop her knees as her back was kept straight. It was the textbook way of sitting properly. Even so, it was strange. Inhuman.

Precisely what he expected.

Whitley took his seat next to her, though giving her ample space, pulling up the collar of his lab coat to shield his neck from the wind. "So, just what was it that made you want to come to the park? Isn't there something more important you should be doing?"

Penny tilted her head to the side, humming. "Maybe," she said, her smile widening. "But right now, the only thing that I need to focus on is getting my body to work again. After that, I can do all the things I enjoy."

"All the things you enjoy?" Whitley parroted.

"I… like flowers. Staring at them, smelling them, feeling them, things like that." Penny ran a hand through her bright orange hair, an embarrassed smile on her face. "A friend of mine introduced them to me, albeit indirectly. But she started my fascination with flowers."

He blinked, feeling his brows furrow as his mouth hung open. But only for a moment. "Flowers? What good do flowers do for a machine?"

"They're pretty, and I like them. Isn't that enough?" Was it?

Whitley shook his head, staring down at the ground. "...No. Or so I've been told."

He could imagine it so clearly. A set of black and white keys before him, his hands gliding across them as he heard a young woman's still developing singing voice. They were awful, yes, but it was… enjoyable. A brief respite from the drab and gray. And then she got better, and he didn't.

"Whitley?"

He shook his head, turning back to look at the machine. "Yes, Penny?"

"Are you okay?"

Whitley looked down, patting himself down. He had no bruises, cuts, or otherwise. "I'd say so, yes. Why?"

Penny blinked, a frown taking to her face. "You looked very sad for a moment. Are you sure you're-"

"You were talking about flowers, weren't you?" Whitley cut her off. The Schnee's were never sad. They were strong, stoic, cold - not sad. Never sad. He wouldn't find himself the one sad Schnee.

A brief silence took hold, the wind blowing past him as he wrapped his lab coat tighter around his form. Not that it mattered, its thin material barely stopping the wind. But it was all he had, beyond his vest and dress shirt. It would be enough.

"Right," Penny continued, nodding. "I suppose I just like flowers. They're pretty, and I feel good when I look at them. Is that strange?"

"For a machine." Whitley said, almost flinching at his own words. That was harsh. Unnecessary. Then again, Penny probably didn't feel anything about it. She probably couldn't feel anything about it. "But no, it's not strange to like flowers."

He turned his head, expecting to see Penny frowning, or perhaps angry. What he hadn't expected was a bright smile, like a million tiny suns lining her lips.

"That's a good thing, then. Strange for a machine." Her words sounded almost breathy, as if she were relieved. "How about you Whitley?"

He curled a brow. "How about me… what?"

"What do you like?"

"For flowers?"

Penny giggled, shaking her head. "No, silly. I mean what you like to do. What do you enjoy doing when you're free? Things that you don't need to do, but like to?"

Whitley shrugged, taking a deep breath as he fell backwards into the rest of the seat. "Every day, I wake up bright and early. I stretch and exercise first, then prepare with a warm shower, and eat breakfast. After that, my day consists of studying and training."

"And then?" Penny asked, her smile plastered on as if she was waiting for him to continue.

"And then…" Whitley paused. And then what? "And then, I suppose, I have my free time. A few hours in the day where I can do as I please."

Penny nodded, her excitement visible on her face. "And what do you do?"

Whitley felt his face contort into a frown. "I read, mostly." Nothing of his own taste, of course. All taken on loan from Father's study, like always. "I'll find myself reading the works of economists and philosophers alike, all in the attempt of finding even the slightest hint of joy in things." Not that there was ever any joy in economics. Philosophy, perhaps, but not when it was so… apathetic.

The idea that, if nothing mattered, why bother caring about action and reaction? Why not simply act in one's own best interest? That sort of thing.

Something shifted next to him. Whitley turned his head to watch as Penny tried to scoot closer, only for her to fall against his side. It didn't hurt, but feeling her head against his shoulder was anything but comfortable.

"Sorry," she started, giggling again. "I'm still struggling with my balance, so I hope you'll forgive me if I have to lean on you."

Whitley hated that he didn't mind. Not because he liked this machine, but because she was warm and soft. Like a blanket that could talk. Yes, that felt logical.

Whitley shrugged off the right sleeve of his coat, draping it over her side as he inched closer. "Here, then. If only so that we don't go cold."

"But I can't-" Penny spoke, only for her to stop. Whitley didn't bother turning to look at her, feeling another shiver trail up his spine as the wind passed. "...Yes. So that we don't freeze."

Another long stretch of silence. One that Whitley wasn't in any rush to cut short. As much as he hated to say, it felt nice, having his side warmed on such a cold day. To feel something leaning on him, not unlike a real person, felt… good.

Of course, it was all an illusion. Nobody was leaning against him. It was just Penny.

"Whitley," he turned his head to face her, watching as Penny's brow curled up. "What was it that made you join the project? You don't strike me as someone who is interested in the science, like Father."

If it were anyone else, Whitley would have stuck on a mask and put on his best smile. He'd have said that it was the science that fascinated him. That it was every Schnee's duty to push the boundaries of the world, like how his Grandfather pioneered modern Dust mining and refining, or how his Father changed the way business was conducted.

But he wasn't talking to a person. He was talking to a machine that was made to be like a person. So then, there was no shame in the truth.

"Frankly, I was bored." How strange. A weight that he'd never noticed until now was lifted from his shoulders. Not entirely, no, but just enough for him to breathe easier. "I grew tired of my daily routine, and when I heard of this project, I decided that I would join. Not out of an interest for science, nor because I'm some bleeding heart humanitarian who thinks you'll change security in the Kingdom. But because it's interesting."

"That's… it?"

"That's it." Whitley confirmed, nodding as he felt the wooden bench creak beneath him. Yet, his body felt heavier than before. "There's nothing interesting for me in the Manor. Just more studies and such. But at the pharmacy, things change. Constantly, even." It was fascinating, watching so many different kinds of people step into the clinic one way, only to leave with a brand new face.

The kind of face that carried so much warmth.

He heard Penny hum, watching as she tilted her head from the corner of his eye. "You're very interesting, Whitley."

That made him snort. "Interesting? Me? I would hope so." He was the son of the wealthiest family on the planet, he was skilled in every topic he was taught in, and most of all, he was a refined young man with manners and wisdom beyond his years. He would certainly hope he was interesting. "Whatever makes you think that?"

"You act like someone who should be happy, and yet you're not."

The pang of pride in his chest quickly faded. "I'm perfectly happy, thank you." Shooting Penny a furrowed brow. A hot feeling shot through his chest, not like the warmth of pride or gratification, but burning. Boiling hot. Anger. "Why would you ever think that?"

"In the last month that I've known you, I've never seen you smile."

The pressure between his brows dissipated. Whitley's eyes fell to the concrete path beneath his feet, watching as snow slowly drifted and covered it. What did smiling ever have to do with happiness? A smile was little more than a means to an end. A way of getting something from someone. That's all anything ever was.

"What is there to smile about?" His thoughts reached his mouth, but he didn't care to correct it. No, instead he continued. "All there is to life is lessons, and lessons are painful. When you succeed, all you've done is meet the expectation. And when you fail, you are scolded." Or worse. "I find there's little to smile about, these days."

Penny hummed, a thoughtful expression taking to her face as he felt her inch closer. "...What would you like?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you want from life? What would make you smile?" Penny asked, a patient smile on her lips as she stared up at him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. "Father told me that the thing that makes people happy is meeting goals. So naturally, you must have a goal for yourself, right?"

Of course he did. It was the same goal his sisters had, and the same goal that had been drilled into him since he was a boy.

"I'm going to be the heir of the Schnee Dust Company. My only goal is to make sure it remains profitable." Every lesson, every scolding, every beating, it was all in the pursuit of this one goal. The goal that would define his life. "That is my life's work."

He felt Penny nod against his shoulder. "That is a goal, but is it your goal?"

Whitley curled a brow at that. "Of course it is. Whose would it be if not mine?"

Penny hummed, slowly bringing a hand to her chin, daintily bringing a finger to her lips. "I'm not sure. But if it is your goal, then it should make you happy, shouldn't it? Does it make you happy?"

Whitley sighed, rolling his eyes. "It will. Eventually." The day that he could take the company from Father's hands and show his sisters it was he who was better, not them, would be the finest day of his life. Then he would never have to deal with Father again. Nor Mother, come to think of it. It would be him, and him alone. "At the very least, my life will be mine alone. That is enough."

"But does it-"

"What about you, Penny?" He cut her off. He couldn't care less of whatever goal she could scrounge up from her algorithms, frankly. But anything to take him away from this conversation. "What is it that you want from yourself?"

He watched as Penny's smile widened. "I want to make friends. Many, many friends!" Oh, a surprisingly safe goal from a machine. Fascinating work, Doctor Polendina. Now he wondered what qualified as a 'friend' to Penny. "And then, once I've made enough friends, I'd like to throw a party. Something to show that they all mean something to me."

Whitley laughed, feeling the warmth against his side travel up to his chest. "Certainly an interesting goal, for a machine. Were you modeled after some kind of introvert?"

Penny blinked, shaking her head as her smile faded. "No, I wasn't modeled after anything. I simply… am."

Curious. Was that simply a response to make her seem more lifelike? He could see that.

"I see," Whitley mumbled, bringing his left hand to his chin. "But if you're being built as a security measure for the Kingdom, what good is it for you to want to make friends?"

"The goal of the project is to make me someone that can protect the Kingdom. Does that mean that I shouldn't make friends?" Her head tilted further as a frown took to her face. "Have I been doing this all wrong?"

Friends… perhaps Whitley was thinking about it the wrong way. Perhaps the word 'friend' simply meant a person of interest. A person of interest that needed protecting. Politicians, military staff, high-value businessmen, that sort of thing. Friend was just another word attached to a string of code.

"No, perhaps not." Whitley answered, forcing a smile as he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Penny, are we friends? This dynamic that we share, I mean."

Penny's eyes widened, her frown disappearing beneath a million watt smile. "Are we? Would you like to be? Oh, that would simply make my day! Can we be friends?"

Whitley blinked, his mask slipping for just a moment. That was an awfully insistent answer. Nevertheless, he slipped his mask back on. "I certainly wouldn't mind the concept." Of testing his theory, that was. After all, friendship with a machine simply wasn't possible. But for a theory, he would disregard that information. "Is that alright with-"

"Sensational!" Penny yelled, sitting upright as she jumped - jumped - from her seat. As in, she went at the very least ten feet into the air, leaving cracks in the concrete path beneath her.

Whitley looked up to watch as she quickly fell to the ground, her knees bending as she hit the ground. But even as she stood there, slightly hunched over from her landing, her legs shook and spasmed as her arms flailed wildly at her sides. As if she was struggling with her-

Penny toppled over, landing on her backside.

Whitley pushed himself out of his seat with a sigh, stuffing his arm back into his sleeve as he shook his head. "Penny."

"Yes, friend Whitley?" Penny smiled up at him from her place on the ground, as though she'd done nothing strange.

He bent down, taking her hand before slowly pulling her to her feet. "No more jumping until you can handle walking. You'll damage your leg joints like that." He said, shooting her a flat look. "And don't call me 'friend' Whitely. Whitley will suffice."

As Penny got to her feet, he felt her leaning against him. "But are we not friends? Doesn't that mean that I should address you by the title?"

"No, Penny." He shook his head, feeling her arms wrap around his own. "You don't need to call someone a friend if you know they're your friend. They simply are. So please, just call me Whitley." At least, that's how he thought it worked. After all, he didn't refer to his sister as sister Weiss, did he?

Not that he ever referred to her in the first place. Unless he wanted to gloat, that was.

Penny hummed again, smiling as she nodded up at him. It was strange how much of a difference a few inches in height made. He didn't tower over Penny, not even slightly. But being that inch or two taller than her made him feel… bigger. Bigger than he was, anyhow.

"Whitley, then." She laughed again, leaning deeper into his side.

Whitley blinked, feeling his scroll press against his leg. Just what time was it?

Pulling his scroll from his pocket, he unfurled it. "Oh," his eyes wide as he stuffed his scroll into his lab coat pocket. "Penny, I'm afraid we've overstayed our welcome. I promised to have you back to the Doctor half an hour ago."

He watched as she blinked, her smile widening. "Oh, I hadn't noticed. Perhaps my internal clock is off?" Tilting her head. But soon after, she laughed. "I suppose the saying is true. Time flies when you're having fun!"

A pang of heat reached up for his cheeks, but he pushed it down easily enough. A machine couldn't have fun. It couldn't enjoy itself. It could only respond to stimuli it was provided, taking the shape of whatever was around it. Like water in a glass.

Then why doesn't she act more like… Like who, himself? As if that were ever a possibility. No, focus. What do we need to do?

Whitley took a deep breath, pulling Penny closer. "Come along, Penny. Let's get you back to the Doctor."

If Penny had any complaints, she certainly didn't voice them. But she stuck next to him either way, shuffling alongside him as he led her out of the park. All that remained was the sound of the wind blowing, cutting against his skin and brushing through his once meticulously combed hair. Of cars cruising past, rubber tires crunching against the asphalt below, and his loafers clacking against the concrete sidewalk.

The walk back to the pharmacy was silent, but Whitley's mind was anything but. His body focused on the goal ahead, but his mind? Less so.

Penny was light and soft to the touch. Warm, too. Kind. Human-like.

Whitley hated that. Hated that he liked the feeling of warmth against his side, of how tightly her arms wrapped around his own. Hated how needed he felt. By a machine, no less.

How confusing.

Alright, I'm back.

Yeah, this took me... what, three days? Something like that. Two and half to actually write it, and the last half to actually edit it. Today marks day four of it being in the process of being written. I can't promise I'll be this fast again, given that I'm in a... honeymoon phase, I suppose, for this story. It happens every time I write something new. And at the same time, I've got a surgery soon, so I won't be writing for at least a few days. Nothing bad or fatal, I assure you, just a basic procedure. I get lost in the concept and discovering the themes of the story, working constantly and dreaming constantly about it.

I think I've got some pretty good ones lined up.

Anyway, let me know what you think. If you like it, share it with your friends, follow, favorite, whatever you want, really. It's not like I can hold you at ransom for it, right?

Ciao, y buenas noches.

discord: 7ksPCNs3ZM