"That too. But I am referring to the you afterwards. When I repaired you, you were anything but friendly. Looking back on it, I couldn't blame you." She said the last part quickly, attempting to reassure him. But the damage was done. Mata hid his mouth behind his still folded hands in an attempt to hide his shame. He wasn't just unfriendly, he was outright feral. Combative even. He behaved like that of a scared animal, when his only threat was a woman roughly his height with half the strength and even less caution. 

"You didn't know where you were or how you got here. And you spoke in some language I couldn't understand." She noted, tapping her chin. "Then you disappeared for a couple of days. I thought, 'Oh god, did I release some deadly mechanical being on an unsuspecting populace?'. It was more worrying when my devices and tools kept going missing. Then there were my books. Lord my books!" Her face deadpanned this time. "The language books made sense. But you took my romance novellas too. I never got them back!"

"-And you never will." Mata responded, nonchalantly. "-Unless you can give back the trashy ones you scavenged from my ship-."

"-So anyway. Once I figured out you were sapient, I decided to try and communicate with you. I will never forget how I managed to win you over with a cookie."

"You didn't 'win me over with a cookie'. I figured out you weren't a threat and accepted your peace offering." Mata corrected, indignantly. "And it was a macaron. A badly made macaron."

"No , they were badly made macaroo~ns." She teased with a smile. 

"No. I know my cookies, they were mack-oh-rohns, which you made maca-wrong." He remarked, smirking. "In your defense, they tasted good, I'll give you that. But they were absolutely hideous and flat." 

"Whatever you say, dear." Mache teased. "either way, my ugly macarons got you to come closer." She looked to the ceiling, lost in thought. "It was bizarre that you needed to eat like I do. Can you imagine? A robot that got peckish? Fascinating. Your system is pretty efficient, a well insulated incinerator. You use every shred of energy you can and barely leave anything else. You can subsist off nearly anything. Its just ironic that you're picky with what you eat."

"It's called having taste. But the compliment is appreciated." He said, his mood brightening up. Mache could find beauty in the oddest and most unorthodox of places. It was an admirable trait some humans had. Most would be unsettled that someone found their inner workings so interesting, but Mache was a fellow in science. And that was something Mata would always appreciate. 

They continued to chat well into the afternoon. Mache's appetite had returned in full so she had a second helping plus some of Mata's plate. But he didn't mind. Mache was smiling. She was alive. While slow, the life was growing in her eyes again. 

As the months passed, Mache regained more and more of her strength. She spent a while in a wheelchair while standing for limited periods of time. She eventually was able to walk around. At first with some difficulty, though a cane from a visiting friend kept her steady for a while. Eventually, nearly half a year later, she was able to walk on her own. She found it slow, agonizingly slow, and she hated feeling so helpless. But she let it incentivize her to work harder. She was slowly coming to terms with the fact that her body will never be the same. She still felt like herself but she also knew some aspects of her had changed forever. There was definitely some amount of nerve damage. Some fear around certain devices too. And while much of her feelings had returned (as Mata had assured her it would) , they both new some would be lost to the incident. Mache felt it was simply the cost of dodging death. 

There were some things within her control. While somewhat numb, she still had good hand eye coordination. She had taken to sewing again the last few months, and had decided her next project would be her cheek wound. Mata told her he felt his sutures were subpar and didn't want to alter her face with them. He cited that her stitch work was far cleaner. Mache felt he did a good job given the circumstances but she chose not to push the issue- Mata was a perfectionist after all and most want to do flawless work for their loved ones. She'd sewn her gaping cheek shut. She was able to close it to a thin line, though still visible it was far cleaner. finally she could eat without having food accidentally spill through. For the first time in months , Mache felt more whole. More comfortable. More human. 

She was encouraged to take as much time healing as she liked. Which was Mata's way of saying 'please no more dangerous actives', which was fair in Mache's eyes. Neither was sure he could bring her back twice so she mind as well enjoy the time she has the second time. 

It was a cool summer evening . She spent much of her time in the library, as Mata once had when he was recovering. She took the time to get reacquainted with her books. It felt forever since she weaved her fingers through some aged yellow pages. She had started with her favorite series, embroidered lovers. It would feel like she was reading it for the first time all over again. She sat a while reading , finishing the first book of the series in a matter of hours. Positively addicting. When she reached for the second one , she realized it was very much missing from its original spot. 

'Oh right. he has it… in his ship.' she thought somberly. She hadn't been there since the incident. Which was an amazing feat because the ship was now part of the mansion's west wing. Mata had suggested doing the more dangerous tests there because said shop was fairly durable and easy to clean (not wanting to ruin the original flooring of their home.), and it was a great suggestion- til six years ago when it wasn't. Mache could still see the shattering metal ricocheting from the walls. She thought to just ask Mata to bring her the book, only issue ; he was doing some tinkering that day. His tinkering spot would be, unfortunately, in said west wing within his ship.

She took a deep breath, finding her resolve. She can't avoid the west part of her home forever! And she really wanted that book back. It would only take an hour to convince herself to go and even longer to take the wall there. Not due to any leg pain or stiffness, but the sheer anxiety of revisiting that metal death pit that sought to take her and its previous owner out at some point. She knew she should have had Mata scrapped it years ago. She's in the hallway, she still has time to turn around. She walked to the sliding door, she could still avoid knocking and- she knocked. She waited a few moments. No one answered. She began to turn on her heel when the door slid open. 

"Enter."

'Damn.' she thought. She pushed the hair back on her scarred forehead, taking each step slowly. She enters the door, being greeted with a soft light and various clicking sounds as she walked on. 

She turns a corner and meets eyes with Mata, whom is seated in front of a large screen coated in buttons and levers with his helm off. A myriad of writhing wires sprouting from his head were typing at many of the buttons out of his reach. They look like pencil thin dread locked hair if they were made of wire-cord, moving around like octopus arms. Mache notes that he's been keeping his helm off more nowadays, She surmises hes either doing a lot of minimal work or is far more relaxed. He smiles at her, typing away with all his spare limbs without looking. 

"Well hello. What brings you here?"

Mache smiles back, walking too him a little more leisurely. She looked around briefly, noting that everything was as clean and orderly as everywhere else Mata resided. It was safe to assume he repaired the damage from the incident as well. Good. she didn't want anymore reminders of that day. she turned back to him. "Nothing much, I just came for one of my books." She leaned her back onto the giant computer desk , picking up Mata's goggles. She held them over her eyes, making them look large before placing them back down. Mata's head tendrils take that moment briefly touch her, as if assessing her before some of them return back to their tasks. "Its hard to believe you are considered near-sighted."

"It happens." he said casually. "Everyone has something off model. Different from the template." he surmised. "As for your book, you will have to be more specific." He said, a bit of a snicker on his lips.

"True" she said , nodding. "I am looking for the second novel of my jester and prince romance series. you know the one." She said , raising a brow. 

His head tendrils ceased their work then folded themselves into a neat bun behind his head. he spun his chair around and hopped down, motioning her to follow. 

"I wish my hair could that." She muttered as she walked closely behind. a few steeps down the metallic hallway, then a left to a large bookshelf that held many familiar titles of varying size. 

"Wow. These look awfully familiar. You seem like a real fan of odd romances, Mata." Mache remarked with mirth. 

"Yes, I am. I find it relatable. " He said , still nonchalant. He loosened one tendril, wrapped it around the desired book, and gently placed in in her awaiting hands. "There we go." he said sweetly. 

"Thank you-."

"No you aren't getting the other ones." he said just as cheerily. 

"I'm sure if I took em back myself, they'd be down here by the morrow." 

"They would, and more."

Mache cocked her head. "Why can't you just get your own?"

His features form a look of deep thought. He looked to the floor with his arms crossed. then looked to the ceiling as if to find the answers. "I don't know. I guess I just like yours. I like that you had them."

"That… that sounds like something animals do to keep their human's scent around." Mache said, head cocked to the opposite side more. 

"I'm not some lonely animal, Mache" He said with a huff. His facial expression was as close to a pout as a human could get. Mache couldn't help but snicker. They sat with a pregnant pause for almost a full minute, Mata looking slightly uncomfortable. 

He relented with a shrug. "You were gone for a long time, Mache. They were one of the few things you left that I could keep nearby." He rubbed the back of his neck trying to explain. "They just remind me of you, you know. The little notes you added. How you'd overanalyze the story on the blank pages in the back. Parts you thought were good and the rewrite note pages you add in some chapters. I know its abnormal but, when I read them , I could practically hear you reading aloud."

"Oh, Mata. I left you alone for so long-. "

"Through no fault of your own."

"It was nobody's really. Sometimes things just happen." She reassured him.

Mata's eyebrows raised. "You using my own words against me? I've been had." He said with a slight smile. "I think I've been at my work long enough… would you mind reading your little novel to me? just for a little while?"

Mache tucks the book under her arm, grinning from ear to ear as much as her face could let her. "Sure. you can bring a couple more too." Mata grabbed a few more books and holding her scarred hand, walked out the sliding doors with her.