Her touch is a delicate thing, moving along what's offered in a careful, purposeful movement. Committing to memory, understanding, brow furrowing at the difference between human flesh and metal. Where they join - it's different than a prosthetic might be.

"...is that what they told you, or is that a thought you yourself created?"

The idea feels fanciful, out of books, not something real. But here it is, speaking to her - she knows some people who'd be over the moon to speak with it, who'd have dozens of questions about what things did or how it was put together. And yet, all she can think of is that they've sat together, it asleep, her a guard, and there was something there that could not be so easily brushed aside.

"Personhood doesn't equate to humanity to the exclusion of all. Else, why would we have the two different concepts, and the different words?"