My first assignment begins after the dinner table is cleared. Having a full meal in me by now, I feel so much better and more ready to take on this challenge. I still don't like the pompous hedgehog, but at least while I'm forced to give him lessons in charisma, I can maybe work on getting rid of some of his more annoying habits; namely, how robotically he speaks. Just because he's an artificial being doesn't mean he has to sound like an uncanny android! So, I'll show him how it's done, and maybe manage to get some more information out of him while I'm at it. It's time for Shadow to learn a thing or two from me.

He brings me to a study room – not far from the dining hall, so there's nothing new about the palace to memorize – and sits himself across from me at the table in the center. His fingers lace together on top of the wood, and he says, "Now you earn your keep. Teach me."

I have to hesitate, not entirely sure how to begin; so I stumble through an introduction. "Alright… hm, well, I should start with speech patterns, I guess. It's the most noticeable thing about how someone talks, besides the actual sound of their voice. And yours is… very noticeably different."

"What do you mean by 'different'?" he asks, one eyebrow sinking.

"Uh… robotic. Not to be insulting, but your vocabulary is kind of stuffy. If you switch it up, you'll have a better chance of connecting with whoever you're talking to – in your case, Eggman."

Shadow is quiet for a second, gazing down as if he's thinking. Then he looks back up and says flatly, "One moment."

Standing from the chair, he turns to approach a desk sitting against the wall and reaches for a stack of paper. He plucks a sheet from it and grabs a pen before returning to the table. So he's going to be taking notes? I guess it's what I would expect from a student, but I can't believe the Ultimate Lifeform doesn't have perfect memory! It seems Robotnik's grandfather overlooked some features in the creation process.

I quirk a brow at him when he sits back down and say, "Okay, that's a good example: you'll want to say something else besides 'one moment.' It's too formal. Better to say 'wait' or 'hold on' instead." He starts writing and I shrug to add, "Saying 'one second' works too."

The pen stops moving and he furrows his eyebrows at me. "I don't understand, why is saying 'one second' acceptable, but 'one moment' isn't?"

"I already said, it's too formal." I gesture with my hands while I explain, and he starts writing again as he catches on. "It just sounds fancier. Certain words have been used more often by snobby royal-types, so that air of sophistication sticks around even if 'one moment' and 'one second' mean the same thing. Make sense?"

"Yes…" he drawls with some hesitation.

I'll admit I might be bullshitting just a little bit. I don't exactly have encyclopedic knowledge of what I'm talking about here. But I have to sound sure of myself, even when I'm making educated guesses. It's strange to see him tap the pen on the table and stare down at the paper, like he's actually trying. I wouldn't think he'd be this cooperative to accept my word on anything.

He looks up again. "Does that also apply to sentences that are missing words? I noticed you didn't use a full sentence at the end there. That must be common when speaking casually, am I right?"

Surprise spreads on my face and I pause to take in what he's saying. He's not only believing my authority on how to talk, but he's catching on to the nuances already. "Yes, actually. So, you do get some of it."

"I'm not an imbecile, Rouge," he remarks with a hint of malice. "The Doctor speaks similarly. But he's my only frame of reference here."

I remember the library and the kind of books I saw on the shelves. Some of them looked centuries old, and a good number of them had to be over a millennia old. If he reads a lot of fairytales – something like Beauty and the Beast dates so far back – I can see where some of his tendencies came from, with Eggman as the living example to keep him from sounding like a relic. But this Victorian-style castle and a collection of ancient books doesn't help keep him up-to-date, especially when most of his interaction with the outside world is attacking it rather than learning from it. So if his master isn't informing him about anything beyond what he does and what he wants Shadow to know, it makes sense his speech patterns would cement a certain way.

I never had time to think about this before! It was always just confronting them and fighting him until we were worn down enough to back away. I thought he was just being a jerk, but I guess he's been shaped to act this way since he got broken out of the pod. He just happened to be kept in this place of clashing old-and-new, a victim of the human's odd style change. Robotnik must've somehow become obsessed with the look once he got tired of futuristic designs, which is hilarious considering he's a man of science. It looks terrible on the old geezer. But, Shadow seems to happily embody this style too. And, well… I can't say it's a bad look on him. After all, it's a great look on me.

Since we're on the topic of the overlander, I might as well phish for info. "Did he teach you anything?"

"Not much. My mind wasn't the most reliable at the time he released me from my prison. He mostly had me read when I wasn't assisting him and I learned what I could. If he'd taught me more, I don't think I'd be in this situation now." His intense red stare is almost unnerving, like he's giving me too much of his attention! "But neither would you. You would still be wasting away in the holding cell. So, let's stick to the lesson, shall we?"

My shoulders tense up at his insistence of not drifting from the task. He's so focused, it'll be hard to get much out of him. But I guess what he said so far is useful. It gave me a different perspective to consider. And it might be something I can use to make him doubt Robotnik later.

"Fair enough," I say, trying to hide my discomfort. "Then, let's talk about tone. Because just knowing what words to use and when to shorten a sentence isn't enough."

"Is there something wrong with my tone?"

I have to choose my words carefully; I can't afford to risk insulting him. "Let's not say 'wrong.' Let's say your tone is… lofty."

An exhale escapes his nose and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. "You mean to say 'condescending'." His eyes strike me again and he speaks before I'm able to defend my wording. "I know how you must really feel. This act of placating me is flimsy."

My mouth is open to cut in but he keeps talking, "Understand, Rouge, that having my temper coddled is far more insulting than saying what's actually true. Especially when you've said infinitely worse to me in the past. Of course, you mustn't get comfortable thinking you can speak as ill of me as you wish – but be truthful. I will not accept falsehoods about how you view me."

I'm stunned… truly speechless right now, because how did he clock my intentions so easily? This guy is an enigma, under-educated in social interactions but also godlike at reading my lies? I've always thought of myself as an excellent fibber! But he read me effortlessly and called it out with no hesitation… this is really going to be a convoluted game if that's how unpredictably he's going to act.

I lace my fingers together and steel my expression to try and read his. There's nothing to read, his emotions are stone. "Do you really want me to just be honest? I don't want to end up back in the dungeon because you got mad at my word choice."

"Yes," he answers without a twitch or a falter. I have no choice but to believe him. "If it's that much of a concern, I will warn you if you begin to cross a line."

His pen is poised over the paper, ready to take more notes. If the straight-forward truth is what he insists on getting, then I'll oblige. I change my expression to show a more pleasant side of my demeanor, forcing a smile to grow and softening my gaze. "Very well. Then, in honesty, yes – your tone is often condescending."

"Tell me how."

"Well… there's this… airiness to it that gives off the aura you think you're better than anyone you speak to."

His eyes trail away from me as he pauses to think again. There's not a single change in emotion when he returns his gaze. "A lilt, would you say?"

I shrug and nod. "Sure. So, even if you're not trying to sound arrogant, it comes off that way when you add that kind of inflection."

"Understood," he says, jotting it down. Then he stops and corrects without looking up, "I understand."

It's kind of off-putting to see him learning, but also… intriguing? I wonder what goes through his mind when new information filters through that brain of his. "That does sound better. By the way, going off of what I said earlier, it's totally okay to use informal words in your everyday speech. Or even sounds that aren't proper words!"

I lift my fist and let my index finger spring out like I'm counting. "A popular one is 'huh' when you don't understand something, as a prompt for someone to explain it. Or if you didn't hear what they said, so they know to repeat it – without you having to ask them to say it again."

My middle finger joins the first to count off my second point. "And notice how I used the word 'totally' for emphasis? It's a very informal word, so it sounds more natural."

He's been writing down almost every word I'm saying as quickly as I say it. Being listened to so thoroughly by the guy who always acts like he knows better… it might even be fun if I wasn't here against my will.

"I think I'm starting to… get the way you speak," Shadow comments, then looks at me again. "I didn't realize it was genuine. I always thought you were being irritating on purpose."

I grimace a little at his jab. "Lots of things seem irritating when you hate someone, purposeful or not."

"... I guess that's true." The pen taps on the table again and there's a lack of words between us.

I take a deep breath as the air grows more uncomfortable, then speak up when I can't take it anymore. "So, you've got your notes; clearly you're a fast learner. How about you put that new knowledge to the test?"

He puts down the pen and runs red eyes over the scribbled words. "Alright. What do you want me to say?"

I tap my finger against my lips, then lean back against the chair. "Tell me about your day, as if we're friends. Make it sound genuine."

"Hm…" He adjusts the ascot hugging his neck, then looks up at me. "Well, when I woke up this morning, The Doctor informed me… told me… that I needed to retrieve you from your cell."

He pauses and I give him a nod. "That's good enough. Go on."

Shadow clears this throat, and for a second it looks like he's uncomfortable when he tugs at the ascot again. In the next blink, he's pulling it off, and I see a tuft of his white fur sticking up from the collar of his fancy shirt. What does he have to be nervous about? I gave him a pretty simple task.

"I don't need to bore you with the details of that, do I?" he continues, saying it more like a statement than a question. I don't respond, so he carries on, "When I left the interrogation room, I went to the library like The Doctor told me to. All I did was sit and read until he came by and told me about the arrangement he'd made with you. Then I waited for you to show up…"

There's a dull look in his eyes when he trails off. I comment, "Not much substance to really speak of. The day almost sounds boring when you explain it like that." His brows start to furl and I quickly follow up, "No offense, of course! I'm just saying, there isn't much room in that recollection to show off what you just learned. Let me think of something else…"

It doesn't take long for me to settle on the only interesting part of his story: the book he was reading. "Tell me about the novel you said you were in the middle of. What's it about?"

His face brightens a little at that question, enough to tell me it's a topic he'll have an easier time with. "It's a dystopian story. The main character wanders a world he isn't familiar with, until he meets someone who knows it a lot better."

His speech is a tad bit slower, still keeping in mind his word choice as he talks, but Shadow's demeanor has changed. He doesn't look so uncomfortable anymore. "Essentially, he's trying to survive perilous terrain and find a place to call home. And this new person he meets is a drifter, so she travels with him."

He pauses again, closing his mouth and blinking at me as if he's hesitating to tell the rest. But now I'm interested; he's doing well to make the book sound compelling so far. I sit forward and nod to encourage him, "Keep going. You're doing better."

When I blink, I almost miss the whisper of a smile that curves his lips before his mouth opens again. I would doubt my own eyes if I didn't know better – I definitely saw it, however briefly. This hedgehog might've just discovered the one thing that can make him seem authentic, out of all the things he indulges in. Books. A story that grips him.

Even his voice is more pleasant to listen to when he continues, "Well… it starts as an existential and explorational novel; they journey and discuss their pasts, their futures, the places they've seen and what they experience as they go. But… now that I'm more than halfway through, the story seems to have taken a more romantic turn."

I lift one brow and watch his gaze trail away from mine. "Really? Is that making you lose interest? I bet you like the philosophical stuff a lot more."

"It's… different… from what I'm used to. The kind of books I usually read… the gritty novellas, the fairytales…" His eyes still avoid me, idly scanning his surroundings. "They're very up-front about the subject of romance. You know going into it that the cynical detective will commit to his supportive sweetheart once the chase is over. You know the princess will find her prince no matter what. You're guaranteed that happily-ever-after."

Shadow's surprising passion – subdued but still there – has me shockingly invested in what he's saying. The new tone he's developed has him sounding much more lifelike than before! The boldness of my own voice surprises me when I ask aloud, "What's so different about this story?"

Ruby eyes continue to elude me, but I don't mind it. He must be focused on sorting through his thoughts if he can't manage eye contact.

"I didn't know that romance would be a factor this time. So, I didn't have any expectations when they met. But now I'm realizing as I read more of their interactions… that those feelings are there. And there's no going back on the connection they've developed. The way it's written, it sort of sneaks up on you… the way their love for each other snuck up on them."

I stay quiet, staring at the dark man who's trapped me here, who dared to be so socially inept that I'm forced to coach him. Seeing how quickly he's catching on, it's making me feel weirdly… proud? His ignorance isn't so irritating that I want to bash my head in. And although I would still rather not be here at all, the way he discussed his book just now, as if he really is a passionate reader sharing a good story with a friend… it made me feel warm for a minute. Nothing like the defiance his steely glare makes me feel, or the disgust I get from his smug smirk. He's acting like a real person with actual interests.

After the little stretch of silence I've given him, he clears his throat and picks up the sheet of paper with his notes. "It's a very good book so far. I just hope the rest of it holds up as well." I watch him stand up from his chair and make quick eye contact with me, before he turns to approach the desk he got the paper from. "Rouge, I believe that's enough for now. If there's more of this lesson to learn later, so be it, but I suspect you're able to judge the progress I have made already."

He waits and I answer, "Oh… yes. You did pretty well! You'll have to keep at it, of course; it won't be second-nature in one day. But you'll get the hang of it."

I smile in case he looks at me, but he doesn't. "Good. Then you've earned the amenities you mentioned earlier." He pinches his wrist, as Eggman had done before, to summon a minion. "An escort bot will take you to the bathing quarters. Then it will show you to your room, where you'll stay for the night."

"Okay… And until then?"

"Until then," he says dully, finally looking at me, "you sit and wait."

He definitely still has a ways to go. Switching right back into cold, calculated Shadow when the lesson is over isn't the best way to learn. But who am I to try and help him any more than I have to? He'll learn what he learns, and what he doesn't… well, that's not my problem. So I wait, checking out the walls for a possible vent opening while my captor sits in a more comfortable chair and reties his ascot.

When the robot arrives, Shadow passes me off to it, and I'm put in handcuffs again. Only my wrists are restrained, though, not my ankles this time, which is more agreeable at this point. On the way through a couple more hallways – just how freaking big is this place? – I spot a square-shaped outline on the ceiling. Could that be an attic space? Maybe leading to a tower, if Robotnik's domain is really built like a castle. Another thing to keep in mind, if I ever get the chance to check it out.

The door to the bathing room is plain, colored light blue against the cream walls and wide enough to fit Eggman's figure through it. I assume this isn't the only one, located at the end of a hall away from other rooms; he probably has a master bath closer to his bedroom. But when the door opens, I can see it'll do just fine. The room is kind of small, but not cramped. There's a toilet in the corner – thank goodness – and the bathtub doubles as a shower.

The escort bot beeps a few times and nudges me inside the room before unlocking the cuffs. I can imagine it would be telling me to be quick if it could speak. Then it closes the door behind me, and I hear a thunk against the wood. Curiosity gets the better of me and I try the handle, but the door won't budge; not as if it's locked, but as if it's being blockaded. So the bot is blocking me from getting out. Oh well… I need a shower, anyway.

I lock the door just in case, and now I can take a proper look around the bathroom. The lighting in here is different from other rooms, with bulbs and fixtures on the ceiling instead of candles. There's a hamper in the corner right next to me, made of thick woven straw with a top to shield the clothes inside from moisture. The sink is a stocky porcelain discus sticking out from the wall and there's a cabinet above it. Looking at the mirror, I start to wonder what they've got stocked and if there's anything here I could use.

So, I open it up. There actually isn't much; just a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. No lotions, so no chance of keeping my skin flawless. I try to think if there's a scenario where the floss would be useful, but… I can't see it being used for much. It's not like I'd be able to strangle anyone here with a thin little strand. If there were two toothbrushes, I might've considered stealing one for a last-resort shiv. But they'd definitely notice this one missing.

Closing the cabinet, I take another look into the mirror, peering at my appearance for the first time in days. Yikes, I look rough! My hair is disheveled from a lack of brushing and the multiple times it's been tussled around by the jerks holding me here. The bags under my eyes are not pretty, either, looking even darker from the mascara that's smudged its way off my lashes. The rest of my makeup is fading with no upkeep, the gloss on my lips is barely visible… I'm glad I didn't know I looked like this until now! I'll have to just wash it all off and be bare-faced from here. As much as I like to look my best at all times, I'm not trying to be pretty for anyone in this prison, so I'll be plain until I get out of here.

Finally showering is the rejuvenation I need, washing away the days' grime as best I can. Will I get to shower every day? Probably not. So I scrub myself as hard and as thoroughly as possible. My skin may not be beautiful after this, but at least it won't be dirty. I can't imagine what kind of cleaning ritual the rebels get; they might just get sprayed with a hose every now and then! The dungeon didn't smell great, but I expected that much. Now that the scent of soap and shampoo is gracing my nose, I feel worse for the prisoners. Sitting in there, day after day, just trying not to completely lose their minds… they've probably already lost their hope. If someone like Sonic could look so broken…

When I feel spotless, I step out onto the bath mat and look at the towel racks on the wall. There's two available – I think I'll inconvenience my enemies and use both. I wrap one around myself and shuffle the other over my head, drying my hair and looking for what I'm supposed to dress myself in when I'm done. If nothing else, I'll have to retrieve the dress they gave me from the hamper; gross, but it's clothing, I suppose. Ugh, couldn't they have washed my outfit by now?

While looking around, I see a box in the corner I didn't notice before, plain and brown and not too big. Opening it, there's beige fabric inside, which unfurls into a long frumpy nightgown when I take it out. I pause for a second to consider it, immediately off-put by the texture. It's coarse and kind of heavy, definitely a very old style and not something I would wear under any other circumstance. But it's the only clean thing I have to wear. Better than the dress I've already suffered dinner and a lesson in, and there's no way I'm leaving this room in just a towel! So I finish drying off and throw on the nightgown. Its rough material feels horrid on my skin.

I unlock the door and knock from the inside. "Hey, robot, I'm finished in here! Time to let me out now."

The door shifts as the bot stops blocking it, then it opens and I'm quickly cuffed again. I never thought I'd be in handcuffs so much in my life – certainly not for this reason! For theft, sure, and maybe even for fun… but as a slave? That wasn't on my bingo card.

When the escort bot takes me through the palace again, I realize so many of Robotnik's hallways look the same. There's no way I'll be able to remember my way around just by walking through a few times. I scan my surroundings regardless, but yet again, there isn't much new to see. It's just red and gold aesthetics around cream-colored walls with a door here and there for unknown rooms. No windows so far. Barely any vents. One potential attic space. Nothing as helpful as I need it to be.

I'm led to a boring russet door and it's opened for me. This new room is tiny, even smaller than Sonic's cell! There's a twin bed against the gray wall and… nothing else. Just a bed.

"Is this where I'm supposed to sleep?" I ask the robot with disgust.

It beeps once and pushes me inside, then unsnaps my restraints and closes the door in smooth, swift motions. I hear it lock as my hands wrap around the doorknob – damnit! It doesn't turn, because it's locked from the outside now. I drop my arms to my sides and my shoulders slump. Looking back at the bed and the pitiful space I have, the only thing that makes this cell an upgrade from the dungeon is that I'm not claustrophobic. If I was, I'd be freaking out right now!

Why does Eggman have these weird rooms around his castle? It's crazy, and a little creepy. Either he's foreseen needing a room like this for this purpose, or his mad mind has him creating odd places on a whim for no good reason. Hell, it could be a bit of both. I never could pin down exactly how that man's mind works. It might even be starting to slip away from him in his old age, although he's definitely still aware enough to make decisions that get people hurt. I can only hope one of his inventions will malfunction and turn his brain into mush one day.

I sit on the bed in my uncomfortable gown in my new cramped bedroom and think of how I could possibly work a scenario to reach one of the access points I've got memorized, without getting caught and thrown back in the slammer by the Doctor or his henchman. The escort bots are tough to escape, he's made sure of that. Shadow will be difficult to trick unless I somehow catch him completely off-guard. And I can't imagine they'll leave me alone for even a minute to be able to break away.

I push a sigh out through my nose and lie down. Maybe if I sleep on it, and let my head clear a bit, I'll have some better ideas in the morning.