A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you're all liking the story so far! I think this is the last chapter before we make it to the game's storyline, so I made it count. If you like Coming Home, feel free to leave me a review or PM! They really make me smile :)

If Iris' heart could leap out of her chest like they did in cartoons, that's what it would be doing in this very moment. Tonight was the night of her first-ever art hall, and she was terrified.

She, Carl, and Markus had planned everything down to the minute detail. Her pieces were sent, the date was set, and hundreds of people had reservations to the opening banquet. Some famous names she and her father recognized, some they didn't, some known fans of her works; it was a good mix.

But still, Iris' heart pounded in anticipation.

"What do you think, Monster?" Iris asked her year-old kitten. She held out two dresses, one a long, deep, sultry red, the other black, short, with a see-through back. Her hair was in wide-set curlers and she was still wearing her pj's from that morning. At least she had her earrings in already. Two sets of gold studs, and one short dangling gold flower at the bottom. Monster was curled up in her bed, his blue eyes staring up at her curiously. "Red? Black?" She held each one in front of her, waiting for a chirp or meow in response. "I don't have all day, baby. I need an answer."

"Black."

Iris jumped at the noise, her eyes looking to the door behind her.

"Well, you seem very certain about that answer. What makes you say that?" Iris asked Markus. He took a few generous steps to her, and his hand grabbed the red dress to set it back in her closet.

"Easy," he answered. Markus went to her bed and reached out to pet between Monster's ears. The kitten stretched out for his touch in response. Monster, you little slut. You're supposed to be my cat! "All of your pieces are filled with colors. The black would make you stand out in contrast to them."

Iris considered the thought, and nodded approvingly. "Smart."

She grabbed her shoes for the evening (a pair of black heels with the top cris-crossing,) with her empty hand and headed in to the bathroom. "Dad's all set?" She shut the door behind her and began to shimmy out of her regular clothes.

"Yes," Markus said, waiting for Iris beside Monster on the bed. "He is dressed and on the first floor already, playing a round of chess against himself while he waits for his date."

Iris was quiet for the next few minutes, focusing completely on putting her look together. The dress and heels worked together well, and her smoky eyeshadow blended perfectly on the first try.

The dress was stunning, if she did say so herself. It was strapless, her favorite kind. The front had a deep neckline, with soft folds curling around the top. It started as a gentle silk, and stayed so as the small fold straightened out at the middle. Once the dress reached her hips, it became a tulle skirt, gently poofing out from the few layers underneath. The length ended at her knees, but when she walked in it the skirt would show off her legs. And of course, the back was see-through, showing off more skin than she would normally be comfortable with, but what could she say? She was emboldened with the thought of her own art hall.

Iris' hands were working on a bottle of mascara as she added, "I shouldn't be too long. Now I just need some lipstick and to get these stupid things out of my hair."

"Take your time; we have fifteen minutes before the limousine arrives."

Iris set a neutral toned lipstick on, deciding that, like Markus said, she didn't want to attract too much attention. Tonight, all eyes would be on her pieces. The curlers came out easily enough, creating generous waves in her hair that she was hoping, with just a bit of hairspray, would stay the night. Perfect.

She stepped out of the bathroom slowly, her hand holding onto the top of her dress. "One last thing, Markus." Once she reached him, she looked up to him sheepishly. "I can't reach the zipper on my back. Would you mind?"

"Of course not." His voice was low. "Turn around."

Iris did as she was told, one hand holding the front of her dress so it didn't fall, and the other pushing her curls to the side so her back was completely exposed to him. She was silent as she felt his hand at her neck, helping to brush aside the mop of her hair.

"Woah…" Iris heard Markus murmur softly, and she smiled knowingly. "I was unaware you had a tattoo."

"What?" She teased quietly. "That isn't in your memory files?"

"Not at all. When did you get it?"

"That," She said, "Was a gift for my 19th birthday."

It was a huge tattoo, covering almost the whole length of her spine. The design was of two lilies—one blue, one pink. Their stems were intertwined, curling around each other towards the base of her spine, ending right above the tulle skirt. The lilies themselves were about in the middle of her back, both bold and big and covering a wide expanse of her skin. Leaves shot out in different areas, small strokes of green between the bright petals. Some petals were floating on her skin, not connected to any piece of the lilies themselves.

It was the only tattoo Iris had, and it meant the world to her.

"May I…" Markus was quiet, almost too quiet for his words to reach her ears. "May I touch it?"

Iris nodded silently, and she felt a featherlight touch at the base of the design. It took all her willpower not to sigh at the feel of him against her skin.

Markus' fingers traced upwards, his thumb brushing where his others couldn't reach. Iris closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation. Thoughtlessly she pushed herself back against his hand, like a silent game of push and pull.

At the middle of her back, Markus pushed his whole palm on the expanse of the blue lily on her left side. He didn't quite understand just why he wanted to touch the design. He couldn't understand the reasoning behind this interaction; why did he want to touch her? Why did he want to feel close to her?

Markus didn't know. He didn't understand. But what he knew for sure is that he liked the feeling it gave him; liked the rush that flurried through his system when his thumb brushed lightly over the edge of the petals.

As his hand curved to her right, to the pink lily, Iris let out a soft moan. She felt silly that the noise escaped; he wasn't even doing anything, just touching her. But it was enough to send her nerves into hyperdrive. Her head gently lolled back, close enough to Markus that her hair was spilling over his shoulder. The LED by Markus' eye swirled easily, the components flicking from blue to yellow, then straight to red, holding its position in the angry color.

Markus did an internal check of his system once, twice, and even a third time to understand why his software was going haywire. He could find no reasoning for his system to be in a danger mode. Just like he couldn't find a reason for his enjoyment of the design, or the replay of the delicious sound Iris made in his head.

It wasn't him. It wasn't his system. It was her.

"Who designed it?" Markus softly whispered. His hand traveled up to her shoulder, tracing a few flying petals easily.

Iris, with her eyes still closed, smirked. "Take a guess."

"You?" His hand pulled away from the naked skin, and Iris internally cried. The little game of push and pull was over, but still she yearned for more. Stop, it, Iris. Stop.

"No," she shook her head.

"Carl?"

"No."

Markus furrowed his brow. "Then…?"

Iris opened her eyes, staring out at her dresser. "Leo did."

Markus' hand froze just above the zipper. "… Leo? Really?"

She nodded softly, and she could feel the pull of the zipper up on her back. "He's quite talented when he puts his mind to something." She chuckled softly to herself. "I swear to god, artistry runs in the family. Leo was just… so spiteful to dad, growing up. He didn't want to be like him. Like us. So he wouldn't put paint to canvas, ever. It was his promise to himself."

"But he created this for you?" Markus finished with the zipper, and his hand dropped to his side mechanically. Don't touch her again. It was his own promise, he told himself. The LED softly swirled again, reaching the yellow once before returning to blue.

"Yes." Iris fixed her hair on her shoulders, setting the tresses in her regular style. "I said that I wanted a tattoo, but I didn't know what I wanted and I was struggling to create something. Dad had a few ideas, but they weren't really my style. So," she shrugged, not yet turning to face Markus. If she did, the spell would be ruined and she would have to face reality again. "He created the lilies and said that the tattoo artist better not fuck it up."

"That was very sweet of him."

"It was."

Iris turned back to face him, eyes gleaming up to him. "Are you sure he didn't respond to us? At all?"

Markus nodded somberly. "I'm sorry, I haven't received anything from him."

She stared down to her heels, dejected. Damn it. It was over a year since she and her father have heard from him, and it was starting to piss Iris off. She had left multiple messages about the hall opening in her favor; how proud she was for getting one out in Detroit, how she wanted him to be beside her when they opened the doors. Iris wanted her brother and father to be right there with her when the company congratulated her.

And all she got was radio silence. For those six months of anticipation, for the whole year she's had Monster; not a god damn peep from him.

Her voice was an octave above a murmur. "I was really hoping he'd show tonight. He knows how much this means to me."

"I know." Markus said sympathetically. And, damn his inward promise, he brought a hand underneath her chin. He pulled her face to look up to him, his eyes searching through hers as he added, "But you have your father tonight. You'll have fans of your artwork surrounding you. And… you have me."

Iris smiled up at him. "That I do."

She was hoping that he couldn't hear the thumping of her heart in her chest, or feel the warmth spreading through her body. Iris told herself months ago that she had to stop caring about him. Stop feeling things that she should not be feeling. That androids and humans could never work. Yet here she was, his hand curled under her chin, staring down to her so intensely that she felt she was burning under his gaze.

Her stomach flip-flopped. This must stop, Iris told herself. Her pupils were probably dilated, he'd probably notice, and he'd start asking questions and no this isn't possible, Iris, stop.

Thankfully, Markus wasn't scanning her. No, he was scanning himself. His system told him nothing as to why he could feel this… whatever it was, when he was with Iris. If his scanner couldn't tell him what was wrong with his system, he was screwed. He shouldn't be feeling these things. He shouldn't be feeling at all.

Yet here he was, her face in his hand, the warmth emitting from her gaze lighting his system up in a way he deemed not possible.

"Markus." Iris' voice was soft.

"Yes?" He asked, thumb lightly grazing her cheek.

"We're gonna be late."

She pulled away from him fully, walking past him with a purpose. This cannot be real; this little dream of hers has to dissipate. Markus wasn't helping, but that doesn't matter. She was the human. Iris had to take matters into her own hands and walk away from it. Walk away from the fantasy that would never be true.

Heels were a bad idea.

They looked gorgeous, and Iris was glad for the extra couple inches they gave her, but she was three hours in and she wanted to rip the damn things off her feet.

Iris knew what to expect for the night; she and her father went over the to-do's the second she got the letter. But still, she was bombarded with the reality that is parading around and talking about herself and her pieces.

Truth be told, she didn't mind the extravaganza. Iris thought they were fun. But she had to choose her words carefully, had to tip-toe lightly through conversation, lest she expose too much of her regular day. That was exhausting to her.

One day she might let out, "Oh, I smoked a pack of cigarettes at three in the morning and ate cold pizza with ranch dressing after." That would let out an amusing array of reactions. Very un-ladylike; very much herself.

She stood by herself near the buffet table of small hors d'oeuvres, sighing internally. Only another hour to go. Just one before she, Carl, and Markus can make their leave. The pair were across the room, next to the winding vase covered in bumps that looked like wildflowers that she finished up a few months ago. Carl was surrounded by older ladies and gentlemen; people he had met beforehand. Iris recognized a couple big names beside him, and she smiled as he chatted happily to the group. Markus stood a few feet away, close enough that if Carl needed something, he would be accessible, but far enough away that he wasn't breathing over her father's neck. His hands were clasped behind his back, resting comfortably. The soft blue light from his LED was a contrast to the regular yellow showcasing her pieces.

Iris sneakily rubbed at the back of her thigh, where her muscle was aching, but brushed it off as if she was smoothing out her tulle skirt. Her small fingers grabbed at a devilled egg from the plate, popping it into her mouth. Protein helps people recharge, right?

"Champagne, madam." A waiter android dressed in a handsome tux held out a small tray to her. The only item on top being a full, long champagne glass.

Iris raised an eyebrow, confused. "Oh, I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. I didn't order any champagne, thanks." She wasn't really one to drink. Sure, a glass here and there, but it wasn't her favorite pastime.

"You did not," the android agreed. He pointed behind him. "That man did."

Across the way, Iris glanced over to the small bar, where a gentleman her age was sitting on a chair. His forearms rested against the chic black top as his eyes, these hazel orbs that Iris approved very much of, trained on her. Once he noticed her staring at him, he gave a flirtatious smirk and held up his drink to her.

Iris gingerly grabbed at the champagne glass, thanking the android, and held it up to the buyer. She took a generous sip of the bubbly alcohol, hoping it would recharge just a bit of confidence before she sauntered over to him.

"Y'know," Iris started, her fingers circling around the glass. She tried to keep her voice low; seductive. "If you wanted to say hi, all you had to do was come over."

He. Was. Beautiful. Short golden tresses styled perfectly, a nicely set square jaw, handsomely defined cheekbones, hazel eyes. A dash of height and a strong muscle build on him. He was the physical embodiment of what Iris thought Prince Charming looked like when she was growing up.

The man quirked the edge of his lip up as he responded. "I figured after the night you've been having, a little something to take the nerves away would be a treat."

French? She thought. His accent was thick. Mesmerizing.

"I'm not nervous." Iris said, and she took a little sip of the drink. "But it's much appreciated. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. It's always a treat to give the most beautiful girl in the room a drink."

Oh, a sweet-talker, Iris internally teased.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

He stood slowly, his height cowering over her form. He must've been at least 6 feet. "Only to the ones whose pieces mystify me."

"Oh, I've mystified you?" Iris teased, her eyes gleaming playfully up to him.

He nodded, hazel eyes darkening. "I'm absolutely captivated."

The stranger held out a hand to her. "Johnathan Atwell."

She brought a hand from her drink into his, giving a soft handshake. "Iris Manfred."

The name didn't sound familiar to her, so he couldn't have been an artist; at least, not from America. Maybe he was a big name in France. Could be he was just visiting the exhibit and stumbled upon her banquet.

She had much to learn about him.

"I have to say," Atwell began, staring down to her. "My favorite piece has to be the plate you have, towards the beginning." Ah, the one with dark reds, blacks, a dash of white. The small haze of purple at the bottom. "Tell me, what was the inspiration for it?"

It was based off of Leo. Purple was his favorite color growing up, and Red Ice was his favorite pastime nowadays. If Iris had to explain it, she would say it was a visual of his descent into his addiction. Happiness drowning in the Red.

But, she just met this man. Iris didn't feel like telling Mr. Johnathan Atwell her whole life story.

"That is for me to know, and you to find out." She said easily.

"I do love a good mystery."

He smirked down to her, and she felt herself blushing under his gaze. "What about you? Have you created anything in this exhibit?"

"Ah, I have a few. Not a whole hall, like you, love."

Iris listened to him as he spoke, discovering that yes, he was from France, and yes, he was visiting the exhibit. He had just managed to come at the right time and found himself enthralled with her type of designs. His works tend to be more hyper-realistic, like the vase or the flowers on her back. Iris felt herself leaning closer, her mind trained completely on the man in front of her. Every worry melted away as the pair conversed, flirtatious undertones not-so-hidden as Johnathan's hand brushed back an unruly curl of her hair.

And while they chatted, Markus stared at Iris, frowning as he scanned her system. Her heart beat fast in her chest, high above her normal rate. Her hand was tight around the champagne glass, like a tether to reality. And if his optical scanners zoomed in close enough to her face, Markus could clearly see dilated pupils, so large that the black was overtaking her natural chocolate brown irises.

His LED went straight from blue to red, blinking quickly.

He couldn't understand why he felt the interaction between Iris and the stranger set off his warning system. In fact, relationships, human contact, general easy-going interactions were good for her. It was healthy. Markus should have been satisfied that Iris felt attraction to someone. He should have ticked off a box in his system that tonight was going great for her in more ways than one. Iris' cortisol levels were through the roof.

But Markus saw the gentleman's hand slide on her back, tracing the lilies, and his frown deepened. No, he was angry that Iris was receiving such attention. That stranger was touching her back like he did earlier; making her smile in a way that he always would. And when the man leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and seeing the way Iris' eyes fluttered shut, it took all strength Markus' system had not to march right up and shove the man away.

…

Jealousy? Was he actually experiencing jealousy?

Months ago, he would have told himself it wasn't possible. But now he wasn't so sure.

"Markus?" His name flew through his ears, and he looked over to Carl. The old artist had wheeled himself closer to the android and away from his friends while they continued to chat, concern over his wrinkled features.

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?" Carl pointed over to Markus' LED. It was still blinking furiously in red.

"Of course." The LED flickered, reaching yellow once and landing back in the soft blue. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Quite so. I'm happy for her. Aren't you?"

Markus looked back over to her, seeing her laugh heartily at something the stranger said. Iris looked ecstatic. The LED wavered, blue going into yellow, flickering back and forth before landing specifically at his regular color.

Markus never answered him. He couldn't respond with, "yes," which is what Carl expected of him. He couldn't say it because it wasn't true. And he had once learned that, if there was nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all. Silence would have to do.

He didn't need to answer, though. Carl caught sight of the flickering LED; the way it was lit completely in red as his eyes were trained on Iris earlier. And Carl understood. Silently, he nodded to himself. He knew it. This was just the proof he needed.

He and Iris would have to have a chat later, then.

"—No way! I don't believe it!" Iris laughed.

"What? Do you want pictures?" Johnathan grinned down to her. "I have pictures."

"I might need to see them." She teased. "I'm sorry, I just don't think someone can accidentally run into a polar bear."

"Ah, we didn't think so either. Reality was far more terrifying than our fantasy."

Iris nodded, finishing her glass of champagne. "It always is, isn't it?" She set the glass down on the bar top, her eyes still trained on Johnathan.

"Not always. I thought talking to you would be much scarier than this."

Iris smiled shyly. "What? Do I look like a gal that bites?"

He leaned in close to her ear, voice husky. "Only if I ask nicely, I'm assuming."

Oh, shit.

Her night was going much better than she was expecting.

He never gave her a chance to respond before he pulled away, smirking to himself. Smug bastard. "Would you like another drink?"

No should have been Iris' answer. But she was having the time of her life, so she nodded silently. God forbid she try to say anything back; her nerves shot to her throat at his last comment. Maybe another drink would do her some good.

"Hey! Waiter!" Johnathan snapped at the closest android in a tux, and the android walked up as quick as he could. "Get us some refills, will you?"

The android nodded curtly, the LED blinking in yellow once. "Of course, sir. Right away."

"Make it snappy." Johnathan barked at it. Iris frowned. "I don't want to wait all night."

"Not at all, sir. Very quick."

As the android zoomed away, Iris muttered softly, "They can take suggestions, y'know. There's no need to be hasty."

"Ah," Johnathan shrugged. "They are here to serve us. They're not human, so who cares?"

I do, Iris thought. She felt a lump grow in her chest. So maybe her night wasn't going as great as she was hoping. He was not as empathetic as she originally thought.

"So, you and your father work in the same studio?" Atwell asked, bringing her back up to the present.

She nodded. Maybe tonight could be salvaged. "Yes. We spend most of our time together, too. I love working with him."

"You don't think it's stifling? I'd hate having someone in my workspace, you know? How am I supposed to create extravagant pieces with some old geezer yapping in my ear?"

Oh?

Iris narrowed her eyes at him. "He doesn't. We work together simultaneously, on our own pieces. I am very thankful that he was so enthusiastic about me wanting to start my own pieces at such a young age in his studio, not mine."

Johnathan felt the bite in her words, and backtracked. "Of course. I don't mean to intrude in any way. It's just a foreign concept to me."

She took a breath. "It doesn't work for everyone. But with us, we're just peas in a pod."

"Well, maybe I could see some behind the scenes work sometime?" Johnathan's voice was like silk, so soft and soothing as it rushed through Iris' ears. "I'd like to take you out to dinner. How does next Saturday sound? 8 o'clock?"

Iris' mouth opened, her mind running at the highest speed setting she could muster. Did she really want to? While Johnathan was a great smooth-talker, she didn't exactly enjoy the crack at her father, or how quick he was to snap at the android. She was conflicted.

And she reevaluated. He might not be as bad as she thought. This was the first time they had ever conversed, and he was right; the concept of working with her father wasn't exactly common. Johnathan probably wasn't too bad.

Just as she was ready to respond, the waiter android rushed back to the pair and with ease set the drinks on the table in between them. Johnathan grabbed at his glass harshly. "About damn time."

"Very sorry, sir. I had to find the specific bottle of champagne, and—"

"Stop." Johnathan ordered. He handed a glass to Iris, and she took it, albeit unhappily. "I don't want to hear excuses."

"Android?" Iris' voice was sweet. The android looked to her, ready to serve. "Do you have a name?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, madam. I am just an WR400 model."

Iris nodded, and smiled to him. "Well, thank you very much for your hard work, WR400. We are all set." Johnathan stared at the interaction between the pair, confused.

The waiter bowed swiftly. "Have a good evening, madam."

As he walked away, Iris watched as he took even, controlled steps out to the crowd. Johnathan asked beside her, "Why does it matter, being nice to them? They have no feelings."

Her eyes wandered over to Markus beside her father, looking out at nothing and everything. And Iris responded. "Maybe not. But I would like to be remembered for my kindness than arrogance to those who feel neither."

"I see." His voice was thick. "So, how does next Saturday sound?"

She looked over to him, this time her mind set. "Unfortunately I'm busy then."

"That's alright. Maybe the week after?"

She blinked at him and changed her tactic. "I'm busy all Saturdays. I'm sure you understand."

Johnathan stared down to her coldly. There it is. While it panged her to see the harsh response, she was almost glad about it. She could never be with someone so demanding and arrogant to those he deemed beneath him. "That I do. Have a good night, Miss Manfred."

She held up her champagne glass. "You as well, Mister Atwell."

It was late when the three returned to the mansion. Iris was glad to kick off her shoes and gown and slip into something much more comfortable. T-shirts and sweatpants, galore. Her make-up was rubbed off and her hair was set in a bun atop her head, little sprigs flying around her face. She felt perfect.

Monster was sound asleep on her bed when they returned, and she didn't want to wake and move him just yet. So she trotted down the stairs to the kitchen, smoking a cigarette while she leaned her body against the wall. Her eyes were staring out at the sky, counting the stars that twinkled above her.

"Your father isn't in bed just yet," wandered into the kitchen, and she turned to look at Markus by the door, light from the room behind him shining softly around his form. "He's brushing his teeth, but he wanted me to tell you how proud he is of your achievement tonight."

Iris smiled at Markus. Like she always said, her father was a mush. "I'll be sure to tell him thanks before he gets to bed."

Markus nodded silently to her, and she turned back to the open window, puffing at the stick. It had been a long night for her. She was sure to get the best sleep she's had in a while.

"Iris?" Her name escaped his mouth, and he almost felt guilty. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but curiosity overtook his system. He took generous steps to her, stopping just before the fridge. "I would like to ask you something, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, Markus." She pressed the cigarette onto the windowsill, putting it out before she looked back to him. "Shoot."

"Tonight," he started, not looking at her. "There was a man. You two were getting along very well for a portion of the night. Yet… You did not take his offer for dinner. I'm curious, why didn't you?"

Iris quirked an eyebrow up at him. Well, for starters, he called my dad an old geezer. I'm the only one allowed to give him shit, she thought cheekily. Then she thought about how rude he was to the android that served them. She would not tolerate arrogance. It just wasn't in her DNA. She was always kind to others, like she had been taught to since being born. If they couldn't be kind, they would never be worth her time.

Then she thought about her feelings for the android right in front of her. They were still there, still alight. If she learned anything from tonight's endeavor, it was that the kindness of an android would always be better than the impoliteness of a human.

Iris let out a soft laugh. Just one, like a quick breath.

"You're an idiot, Markus."

His eyes found hers, staring up at him sweetly, and he frowned. "I don't… I don't understand."

Really? She thought. You haven't seen it? You haven't figured out the puzzle yet? She was surprised.

"That's okay." Without a second thought, Iris closed the gap between them, her hand going to rest on his jawline. She felt the stubble of hair scratching at her skin as her fingers splayed out over his skin. Her eyes connected to his, his frown still evident. She shook her head softly as she added, "You don't have to."

But I want to, Markus almost spoke. He tried to, but the words couldn't escape him. It was like he was frozen every time she touched him.

Iris' attention was brought to the LED beside his eye, blinking from blue to red, where it stayed. She looked back to his eyes, teasing softly. "Are you nervous, Markus?"

She waited for his regular response. No, I don't feel nervous. I don't feel, ever. She'd heard variations of it from the year and a half that she and her father have had him. And this spell she was under would break, and she'd go to bed only slightly disappointed. It's what she was expecting.

"No." Markus answered honestly, his voice calmer than she expected. His hand went to her chin, just like it was before the banquet. "Not when I'm with you."

A soft breath of surprise escaped Iris. She wasn't expecting such a heartfelt response, or the way his thumb trailed along her cheekbone. She couldn't muster anything out as his thumb explored the skin of her cheekbone, making her nerves light up, like electricity running wherever he touched. Her hand on his jawline moved back, fingers curling around just behind his neck. It was like the pair were lost in each other, searching the other for something unidentifiable; something unattainable. Iris had deemed it so many months ago. But that thought wavered in the darkness of the kitchen, breaking as softly as Markus' touch glided along her skin.

Vaguely, Iris wondered if androids' hearts could race. If they could pump fast when they were flustered. Did they mirror human attraction down to a T? Her eyes met with Markus'; no dilated pupils. Maybe not down to a T, she inwardly laughed. But she couldn't feel his heart—or his thirium pump, rather—she couldn't feel how quick it was pumping.

His thumb traced her bottom lip gently, feeling the plump skin bounce underneath his touch. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss them. Would it feel like every movie he's ever downloaded deemed it to be? Would everything just fall into place afterwards, would any problem they'd ever face dissipate into nothingness? Markus thought that seemed silly, but he thought that an android feeling anything was silly just months ago.

A clearing of a throat broke the spell that the both of them were under, and like they were burned they pulled away. Carl had wheeled himself in the doorway, his eyes trained on his daughter and his android like he caught them stealing from the cookie jar. He asked slyly, "Am I interrupting something?"

Markus was the first to answer. "Not at all, Carl. Ready for bed?"

The LED went from red to yellow to blue in a nano-second and he walked over to Carl, grabbing at the back of his wheelchair. Iris watched as Markus and her father went into the living room, and from her spot in the kitchen she heard the whirl of the machine that carried Carls' wheelchair up the stairs. She couldn't move just yet. Her mind was still reeling from the intense whatever the fuck just happened.

Maybe Iris was right all those months ago. There was more to Markus than either of them realized.

"Iris? Really?"

"What?" She looked down to the chessboard between her and her father. "It's a decent move."

"No." Carl took his knight and grabbed her bishop off the board. Ah, shit. "It's not. You normally kick my ass at this, kiddo."

"I'm just…" She shook her head, as if she was clearing her inward thought with the motion. Her hands ruffled at her mop of hair, the sunlight through the windows streaming through her brown locks. "Warming up. It's fine."

"You aren't this careless." Carl held the bishop up. "This is your favorite piece and it's in my hand now. How'd that happen?"

"Alright!" Iris huffed. "It was a bad move, sorry."

Carl looked at her, an eyebrow raised. He softly said, "Seriously, little flower. You can't hide much from me. Where's your head at?"

She looked down to the board, surveying the match between them. But out of the corner of her eye she could see Markus by the sink, cleaning up their dishes from breakfast that morning. And, dammit, her father noticed.

"You know," he began. Iris grabbed at one of her pawns and set it two paces forward. "Back in my youth, some believed that homosexuality was a sin."

Iris snorted. "That's stupid."

"It was." Carl agreed heartily. He moved a rook easily. "And before that, interracial couples were frowned upon. They had to fight for their rights. They couldn't marry, couldn't adopt, couldn't own a house together. Even though there were many, simply in love, there were just as many people willing to keep them apart. They were told their love was different; it was taboo."

"I've read about it in school. Interracial, LGBT, all that good stuff." Iris moved her knight (praying that it was a decent move,) as she looked up to him curiously. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he leaned forward to her, a knowing smile gracing his features. "There's always going to be people marginalized for those they care for. Hell, I had a boyfriend way back in the day and some people turned from me and my works. Nowadays, that little taboo group might be humans and androids."

Iris' eyes widened, and she pushed her back further into her chair. "Dad. No."

"Oh, please." He waved it off easily. Iris was always finicky when talking about her love life (or lack thereof,) but he felt it was important for her to know. To talk about it with him. "I saw that look last night. You looked like you did when you were crushing on Diana in the second grade."

"Dad." Iris whined. She wanted to sink into her chair. "Stop it, he might be able to hear you. Besides, there's nothing going on."

"Maybe not yet." Carl said. "But there should be."

She was silent as she stared out to the board, not really looking at it, but through it. Her emotions have been on a rollercoaster since last night, since the silent game she and Markus played. Of course her father noticed. He noticed every damn thing; it was both a blessing and a curse for her.

She was quiet as murmured, "It's not possible. Androids can't feel emotion. They aren't human." She'd gone through the scenario a million times in her head. It wasn't possible.

"You really believe that?" Carl asked her wisely. Iris' eyes peered through the doorway into the kitchen, Markus still working at the dishes. Like he felt her gaze on him, Markus turned his head to look at the pair playing by the window. He gave Iris a gentle smile and a curt nod, and she felt her heart flip in her chest.

Maybe. Maybe not.