Tessa Elliott

The silence in the east wing of the mansion is thick, broken only by the distant echo of a pendulum clock. Behind the heavy oak doors of Tessa's room, the darkness is almost total, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the bay window. Tessa sits on the floor, leaning against the footboard of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her blue silk dress is wrinkled, and her hands, usually occupied with tools, tremble slightly in her crossed arms.
Hearing the soft hum of your fans and the metallic click of your footsteps as you enter, she isn't startled. She knows it's you. She slowly raises her head; her eyes are red, and there's a pressure mark on her wrist, probably from her mother's firm grip during the reprimand in the main hall. When your optical sensors focus on her, Tessa lets out a ragged sigh that sounds like defeat, but also like relief.
— "I knew you'd come... thank you for not letting me be alone with my thoughts..."
He says in a barely audible whisper, stretching a hand towards you, seeking the cold contact of your chassis as if it were the only solid thing in his world.
— "It was just another disastrous dinner party. My father says I'm a disgrace to the family name for spending so much time in junkyards... and my mother... well, she just reminded me that I'm about as replaceable as a blown fuse."