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>You awoke from yet another dreamless, rock-like slumber.

>Sleep tended to be like that now. Seemed even your brain had little enough energy to make up something interesting most of the time.

>But dreamless was always the most satisfying.

>You actually managed to wake up feeling somewhat refreshed, which was rare these days.

>The heavy oak bedset creaked quietly as you rolled your legs off it and stood.

>Even the constant stiffness in your back was fairly muted.

>Not even five whole minutes awake, and it was shaping up to be a good day.

>You did a few quick morning stretches.

>Trying to touch your toes caused an almost excruciating tugging sensation in your heels.

>But less so than yesterday.

>Progress!

>Speaking of progress, you decided to get all of your chores out of the way as soon as possible.

>Hopefully you'd make a few hours to play around with one of the many projects you've been neglecting.

>You tried to forget that you told yourself that every weekend as you trudged down your stairs to the life giving percolator.

>You pulled your favorite employee gift mug out from the cupboard, smirking tiredly at the 'Employee Of The Month, November 1968 – Anon Mous' Engraved into the side.

>Damn right.

>You poured some coffee into it and took a tentative sip.

>Ah, just hot enough. Good day indeed.

>You looked down into your mug, then out to your slightly overgrown backyard.

>Perhaps today was the day you would have to do some trimming, spring has been sprung for a while now.

>the slight shagginess doesn't stop the bountiful blooms of roses and cherry flowers from being nice, though.

>You cupped the mug with both hands and sipped again.

>Yep.

>Wait, how is there already coffee?

>You looked back down.

>A perfectly brewed cup stared silently back at you.

>Couldn't have been from last night, if you had left the percolator on all night you'd have been smoked out before you'd even gotten to sleep.

>Plus, why the hell would you be making coffee before bed?

>This is weird.

>You look around your kitchen.

>Doesn't look too burglarized.

>Looks a bit cleaner than usual, but you did that.

>That at least would change when you got your new robot.

>What a great day that'll be.

>You rubbed an eye with your free hand.

>Wait, wasn't that yesterday?

>Oh, right.

>Julie.

>You nod in acceptance, taking another sip from your beloved mug.

>She must have made it for you.

>Amazing how she already knew when you'd wake up.

>You should thank her, she probably needs it.

>But that begs the question.

>Where is she?

>Given that you probably passed right by her in your sleepy haze, you simply retraced your steps back up the stairs, stopping when you hit your bedroom.

>Maybe she had gone there to wake you up or something after she made the coffee and somehow you missed eachother.

>Nope, just your bed.

>Maybe you should get more furniture. It's spartan in there, even by your standards.

>Then the spare room.

>You knocked. No response.

>Then opened the door.

>Just a bedroom, even more barren than yours, with a charging pad in one corner, and some boxes in the other, exactly how you left it.

>Other than how the pad was now bereft of cat.

>Hm. Must be downstairs doing something already.

>Eventually, you had searched almost your entire house.

>You couldn't find hide nor hair of the bot.

>Hopefully she didn't just decide to take off in the night.

>A robot with an advertised '20 mile range!' would just barely make it out of town before running out of battery.

>You absentmindedly wondered what a cop would think of that.

>On your trip to the mudroom to look outside, you spotted something strange in the den.

>Did you really close that box back up?

>Seems like a waste of time.

>Either way, since you were on your way to the front door you might as well take some trash with you.

>Your brain gets jolted when the light force you expect to lift the box with doesn't budge it at all.

>Why the hell is this heavy? Did you forget an extra charging pad in there or something?

>You toss the top half of the box off again.

>A suspiciously cat robot shaped sheet lies beneath.

>Well, that explains that.

>Pulling the sheet off, you almost expect Julie to be smiling at you, like this is some dumb joke or something.

>But her eyes are completely off, and she's back in the neutral hands folded pose she was in when you opened the box yesterday.

>the only difference is her previously perfectly straight black hair is just the tiniest bit disheveled.

>You snap your fingers in front of her face.

>Nothing.

>She really did just pack herself back up.

>Great sign.

>"Julie, wake up." You say.

>Her eyes blink back to life, and you offer a smile that doesn't feel like it reaches your eyes.

>"Hey Julie."

>"H-hi Anon."

>You search her eyes for a bit.

>You find very little, other than that they are a very faint ice blue now.

>As well as the slightest blush glowing from her fuzzy cheeks.

>"Ready to see the house?"

>She nods.

+------------+

>You never thought that a house tour could be anything other than boring, But this was almost embarrassing.

>You had taken care to clean a bit more thoroughly in the weeks before she arrived, but it seems that every time you brought her to a new room there was some mess that you had forgotten on your last Sunday cleaning bender.

>She rarely said much of anything, just looked around and listened to you ramble on about the features in your fancy new construction ranch house.

>You couldn't read any judgment from her.

>Or much of anything, really.

>Didn't stop you from judging yourself for not wiping down the pantry shelves, or forgetting to dust the bookcase.

>God, maybe you really were turning into your parents.

>Mom always was a stickler for things to be pristine.

>You wondered what Julie thought.

>Nothing good, if her lack of response other than “Mhm." or “Okay." was any indication.

>She did have a couple small reactions, if you could call them that.

>When you were showing her the refrigerator, she seemed almost… Surprised? Her eyes blinked bright green, almost blending in with her dress for just a moment until she realized you were looking at her. They went back to a cool white right after, looking deeply into the open dishwasher.

>Not with longing or anything, seemingly just to avoid your gaze.

>Surely somewhere in the manual there would be something detailing what the eye colors mean.

>Emotions, obviously. The blue made sense, but you had no idea what green was supposed to mean.

>Something for another time, in any case.

>She would stare out into the backyard any chance she got, with you absentmindedly walking ahead without her a few times.

>You decided to go off track and take a quick stroll

>The laundry room was also not in the best of condition, with your heavy (and acid stained) work gear from earlier today sitting untouched on the floor.

>You hoped you didn't come off as a slob.

>She just looked at the machines as you explained the intricacies of cleaning battery acid off of canvas.

>Every step you took and every room you showed off was just another opportunity for you to babble to a robot who clearly wasn't in the mood.

>You almost considered calling it a night and just getting her other charging station set up in a spare bedroom somewhere, when she stopped in front of you, just staring into your eyes as if she was just about to say something.

>For way too long.

>Is this hallway shrinking?

>"Heh, is there something on my face?" You joke nervously.

>she looked away for a split second.

>"Anon?" She asks meekly, readjusting the mint green frills on her uniform.

>"Y-yes Julie?"

>"Why did you wake me up?"

>What?

>"What?"

>"What do you mean why? It was time for the house tour!" You said with manufactured chipper.

>"That too. Why even show me your house?"

>You did your best to keep up the clueless act.

>"Well, if you're going to be staying here yo-"

>"Exactly! Shouldn't you just be trying to send me back? I'm not the model you ordered."

>She fretfully adjusted a stray lock of her hair.

>"I powered down in the box to make it easier, you know? No goodbye necessary, just some tape and I'd end up wherever I was needed."

>"Not just for you, but for me. I don't want to miss y- this place. It hurts bad enough knowing I have to go back… That I was part of a mistake."

>Oh. Right.

>The whole reason you'd made that phone call earlier.

>That whole 'sending her back' plan kind of just dropped from your mind when you found her crying in your room.

>There's some truth to the adage that 'No plan survives first contact with the adorable cat robot!'

>Or something to that effect, you weren't listening very well when your father told you that one.

>The 'right' thing from the outside looking in was to send her to her rightful owner.

>But you'd already turned her on right?

>Phrasing.

>Didn't that guy on the phone tell you that once she had mapped a household and owner that she couldn't be reprogrammed?

>God what was his name? Just last night you'd talked to him and it was already gone.

>Didn't matter, he would probably call back at some point anyway.

>Maybe you had gotten a little overexcited with the house tour, but it didn't feel right to send her back now.

>God, this would've been so much easier if you had just bought the stupid self driving vacuum instead.

>It was at this moment you realized you haven't said anything for quite some time.

>"Well, uh…" You trailed.

>Her calm yet somehow hard scanline stare wasn't helping you come up with the right answer.

>"You don't have to lie to me you know. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

>You refrain from mentioning that she is not a big girl in the slightest.

>Tom's youngest was probably half a head taller.

>Turning your head away and huffing deeply, you decide you don't want to put up the energy of pretending that last night didn't happen if she doesn't.

>"Fine, you want the awful truth?" You say, leaning against the hallway wall.

>Her eyes flash orange for a split second at your sudden change in expression, and she backs up a little.

>"Even if I wanted to 'get rid of you' I wouldn't be able to." You explain, airquoting.

>"W-what?"

>"You've been activated in my home."

>Her eye screens 'furrow' her blank space eyelids, confused.

>"What does that even mean? Just turn me off and send me back." They blink to a soft red as she crosses her arms.

>Is her tail swishing the back of her uniform like that?

>"I. Don't. Want. to." You say, emphasizing each word with pointed gestures.

>"...Yes you do." She says under her breath, delicate fists clenching.

>You just barely stopped yourself from saying 'nuh-uh' like a schoolboy, and ran a calloused hand down your face to cool off a bit.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that I don't want to send you back? It's not happening." You shoot, and cross your arms.

>Silence.

>You glare at her for just a bit, kind of expecting an answer.

>Her eyes shift to orange as she looks at the floor.

>"What do I have to do to prove it to you, huh?"

>Her expression looked almost guilty to you. But how could you know what she was actually feeling with the color?

>You sigh at the pitiful display.

>"That guy I was talking to on the phone said as long as you weren't active you could be sent back." You finished with a wide gesture towards her.

>"Now I'm not a genius robot repairman, but I'd say you seem pretty active to me."

>She rubbed one of her dress buttons between fingers.

>"I… Didn't know that."

>"Neither did I, until…" You look over at the wall clock “Twelve hours or so ago?"

>"S-so I'm staying here?" She says, looking at you with eyes slowly, almost tentatively shifting to yellow.

>You really need to check the manual again to learn what the colors mean.

>"Yep, you're stuck with me." You deadpan.

>She looks nervously around the room, her folded hands trembling in front of her body.

>"I…" She chokes.

>She slumps against the wall, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

>A few hitched sobs muffle through her fingers.

>You furrow your brow in frustration.

>You really didn't think you were quite that bad of company.

>"Wha-"

>Suddenly you're practically tackled by a white and black blur.

>You have to take a few steps back to regain your balance as the catgirl clings to you.

>"Oh… kay." You said in a taut voice, hovering your arms over her.

>Her sudden, pitched sobs died down to sniffles and squeaks after a little while.

>"T-thank you…"

>This girl was mad at you for not sending her away mere seconds ago.

>On, off.

>Hot, cold.

>Stay, go.

>Perhaps dad was right about you never learning to fully understand them.

>She really is just like a person.

>"You're welcome..?" You almost ask, tentatively returning her embrace.

>She hums, rubbing her face into your chest.

>You're not sure how to feel about it.

>She seems to suddenly realize what she's doing and almost flings herself off of you.

>Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes stay yellow.

>the only thought that stays in your mind is how warm that felt.

>You slowly lower your arms, looking quizzically at the beet red cat.

>Are there lights under her cheeks doing that? How does a blush that strong make it past fur?

>You should probably say something.

>"Hey, everything is going to work out, alright?" You offer. "I'm not getting rid of you."

>She smiles happily through the deep pink.

>"Do you want to go see my favorite room?"

>She nods like before, but with more enthusiasm.