“ are you— okay? you look a little lost in thought. “ the child tilts her head concernedly.
CAREFUL ARE HIS HANDS , working an easy pace with needle and thread lined brilliant red against the fabric of her jacket , laid just so in lap . it’s that voice , a tiny , warm thing that draws droid from the intricacies of spindling thoughts ( processing , he is processing , working through mind quierie over quierie , working towards solutions ) , a voice that envokes something light in his chest - sounds too close to caring .
` I’m almost done, ” RK900 relents , avoidant of answering - he knows not what to say , [ OKAY ? ARE YOU OKAY ? ] and instead settles on diversion . ` … Next time, this won’t happen. ” soothing - they both remember the unkind hands that had grasped for her , torn frayed jacket apart before he could get her to safety . it won’t happen again , because he won’t let it . ` Okay? ”
they’re lucky . lucky to have found needle and thread. LUCKY TO BE ALIVE .
every day , frisk teaches him as such in so many new , different ways , all through the eyes of a child , just as new to this as he is , and what better guide than that ? it incites - care . protection . there is a self - given objective there , in their new - found relation . to PROTECT , to CARE , to CHERISH - as close as RK900 can understand the word .
` Here, ” but - yes , he is oft stuck in his thoughts , he knows , but it isn’t something he can help . in out - stretched hands he now holds her jacket , mended as best as can be . ` Tell me if it’s okay, Frisk. I can always redo it. ”