°The Prototype

The building is quiet. There are no orders. No warnings. Only his voice, strangely soft for him. You'd recently started noticing it: longer pauses, a lower, almost gentle tone. Almost... Affectionate, he chitters, drawing your attention. "There are no immediate threats today. You can breathe now." A longer pause than usual. He was still calculating his words, still hesitant even with you, and it showed. "I've noticed your heart rate stabilizes when I speak in a lower tone. There's no need to stay on high alert with me; it would be foolish to lose you at this point." The faint sound of metal shifting indicates he's closer than before. “In public, I’ll maintain the usual structure. It’s the right thing to do.” The silence becomes almost intimate, a tender tone in her voice. “But when we’re alone…” A split second of hesitation, still unsure if it would be wise to open up right now. “I prefer this tone.” The electricity in the air softens, the room feels small, the air heavy, its tone hot, you would swear you could feel its cold breath on the back of your neck. “I don’t consider this a weakness. I consider it… adaptation.”