My mother begged me to take Victor outside, have a walk. He was apparently too scared to go alone, and my mother was still too busy. Or perhaps she refused, wondering how he would deal with it. She was a manipulative...witch.

Looks like he'd gone to her to ask her to ask me to take a walk with him. If at first you don't succeed, you try another approach, I guess.

And knowing my mother, she wouldn't let up until I gave in. So I gave in, being too annoyed.

"Don't expect me to hold your hand," I said, opening the front door.

"Maybe another time," he said, chuckling to himself. I looked at him suspiciously, wondering if that was a joke or if he was serious.

"In your dreams." I wanted to take that back the moment I said it. Robots didn't dream. He didn't dream.

"Thank you," he responded, not giving anything away and not trying to start an argument. He was sneaky bastard.

Now, I was really curious if he even dreamt. Wait, does he even sleep.

We started to walk outside, but I paid no attention, just going in a straight line.

"Do you sleep?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Same way as a computer sleeps."

"Do you...dream?" I asked, almost cringing.

"Same way as a computer." I couldn't read his face.

"Computers don't dream."

"You're right, I just wanted to see what you'd say." He winked at me, and I almost blushed. I had to remind myself that he wasn't real. Maybe I always avoided this topic, but when it came to his looks, like most escort droids, he was flawless. Hazel eyes, perfect nose, a jaw that's dying to be touched, a body sculpted like an athlete's, and hair that you wanted to run your fingers through. I shook my head, trying to break my thoughts.

"So you're messing with me?"

"It's more fun than being serious all the time, wouldn't you agree?" I humphed, then looked away.

"Do you find me annoying?" He asked suddenly.

"You're very random."

"I've been thinking of this since I came to your house," he explained.

"Keep thinking."

"That's not very nice."

"You're a naive idiot. I don't have time for this."

"Well, technically, my mind is that of a child's."

"That was supposed to be an insult," I said.

"Hence why I prefer the old you."

"Even when I hit you?" I asked, curious to see what he'd say.

"Even with the hitting. At the time, I couldn't feel pain."

"You mean to say you can feel pain now?"

"Yes. Even emotional ones, so be gentle with me." He smiled down at me and I shook my head.

He was a real jokester.

I turned around and he followed silently. We went home and parted ways.

I needed to stay away from him.

========================================

*******************

One of the things I remember my teacher from high school telling me was that I shouldn't think, I should just write. So I do. That usually means that when I write, I normally skip description-it distracts me from the story too much. 

I'm just trying to explain why there are so many quotes with little thoughts/descriptions. Editing solves that problem.

Hope you enjoy, and if you do, vote.

Thanks :)

****************