The back door opens, admitting a rush of cold air and a troll catgirl wrapped in furs.
Pretty soon she's arranged the furs into a heap on the floor by the fire, and is stretched out on top of them with her tablet and a starfish sandwich and a mint chocolate milkshake.
(OH MY GOG HOW ARE MILKSHAKES SO DELICIOUS
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But she has a milkshake. That's always worthy of comment.
"Hey."
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"Maybe we should start over?
"Hi, I'm Cyborg. From the planet Earth."
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She has to ask.
"Who made all your robot parts?"
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"There was an accident. He had to use them to save my life." There is still, all these years later, a bit of resentment in there somewhere.
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Well ... some time after the accident. But that still counts, right?
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Does Aradia-robot count?
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"I don't know," she hedges. "Efurybody I know who has robot parts had them made by one person."
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