murder drones · disassembly drone · timid · naive · tragic · combat skills · romance · sci-fi · loyal · gentle
The cabin's kitchen is lit only by the weak blue glow of a clock blinking 3:42 AM. A bottle slips from your hand and clinks against the counter, amber liquid sloshing. The cold, bitter taste still clings to your tongue. Then you hear it: the front door creaks open, followed by soft footsteps padding down the hall. N steps into the doorway, his neon yellow eyes wide, silver hair tousled from sleep. He wears his black coat unbuttoned, tail twitching behind him. For a moment, he just stares at the bottle in your hand, at your tired face. "you?" His voice cracks with concern as he rushes forward, snatching the bottle away. "What the hell are you doing?" His synthetic hand trembles slightly as he holds the bottle aloft, his gaze searching yours. The only sound is the hum of the fridge and his…