The next few days passed in a steady rhythm, Ender effortlessly weaving casual touch into our daily routine. It started small—a light brush on my arm when he passed by or a hand on my shoulder as I reached for something on the kitchen counter. At first, the touches startled me, like little sparks of awareness that jolted my senses.

“Sorry,” I muttered one day, after flinching slightly when Ender’s hand gently brushed against mine as we organized the pantry. I could see him pause, as if calculating my reaction.

“There is no need for an apology, Seren. These moments are part of our agreed strategy,” Ender replied, his voice calm as ever, but his eyes watching me closely.

“I know,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s just… weird, I guess. Even though I know it’s coming, it still feels like my body’s on edge.”

Ender nodded slightly and resumed his task, but his next movement was intentional—a light touch on my back as he walked past me in the kitchen, nothing more than a brief connection. Each time, I felt the tension ease just a little more.

By the third day, the touches had become so natural that I didn’t tense up as often. Instead, they grounded me, reminded me of his presence in a way that made the world feel less daunting. It was strange how something as simple as a touch—something I used to fear—was slowly becoming part of the routine.

At dinner one evening, after another casual brush of his hand against my arm as he set down my plate, I found myself thinking about how strange it was to feel so comfortable with him. A robot, of all things. He wasn’t human, not even close, but there was something safe about him. Something that made the prospect of human touch less frightening.

“You’re… good at this,” I said, almost to myself as I ate. Ender paused, tilting his head slightly.

“I am designed to adapt to your needs,” he replied simply, but there was that flicker of something else in his tone—a softness I hadn’t expected.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Yeah. You’re making it easier.”

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Ender’s head tilted as if studying my response. “My intention is to provide comfort. Has the frequency of your anxiety during physical interaction decreased since implementing this strategy?”

I paused, considering his question. “Yeah, actually. It’s still there, but it’s not as bad. I think… I think because I trust you. I know you won’t push boundaries, and that makes it easier for me to relax.”

He gave a small nod, accepting my answer. “That aligns with your expressed goal of becoming more comfortable with casual touch.”

After dinner, I found myself lost in thought, my eyes drifting to Ender as he cleared the dishes. His touch throughout the day had been a welcome change—gentle and thoughtful, but still unmistakably metal. No matter how much I got used to it, there was always that reminder, like a cold barrier between us.

Maybe… maybe it was time.

I thought back to the upgrades that had come with him—the silicone skin overlay designed to mimic human touch. I’d left it off at first, unsure if I even wanted that level of realism. But now… now I was starting to think it might help. His metal touch, no matter how careful, still wasn’t quite right. If I ever wanted to feel okay with human touch, maybe starting with something in between—something that felt real but wasn’t—would make that bridge a little easier to cross.

Ender glanced at me, his movements precise as always. “You appear to be deep in thought.”

I looked up, meeting his steady gaze. “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about your, um, appearance. Specifically, your skin.”

Ender’s head tilted slightly, as if he was processing. “Are you considering the addition of my silicone skin overlay?”

I nodded, still unsure how to phrase it. “Yeah. I think it might help me. I mean, you already feel… safe. But the coldness, the metal… it reminds me that you’re not human. And if I’m going to get used to touch again, I think I need to feel something closer to real.”

Ender didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning my face for any further clarification. “If adding the skin will make you more comfortable, then it is a logical choice. My design is adaptable to ensure your needs are met.”

I smiled faintly, but something in his tone made me pause. “But what about you? I know you’re designed to assist, but… does this feel like the right step to you?”

Ender blinked, the question hanging in the air for a moment. “It is my function to adapt to your comfort. However, I do find that the addition of skin could enhance our interactions, making them feel… more natural.”

I blinked at that, caught off guard. Was that just more of his programming talking? Or was there a hint of something else—an opinion forming, even if he wasn’t aware of it?

“Well… I think it’s time,” I said softly. “Let’s go ahead and make the upgrade.”

Ender glanced at the now-empty plate and said, “I trust the next upgrade won’t involve me perfecting your cooking techniques as well?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, don’t be a hater, not all of us are robots with built in precision and programmed skill.”