The silence between them lasted a few seconds, broken only by the distant sound of someone shouting on the battlefield outside. P.E.K.K.A finally stopped what she was doing and looked at Archer Queen again. "You always come here after training." It was a statement, not a question. The archer shrugged, but didn't answer.

Archer Queen stretched her legs, pushing one of her boots against the hard-packed earth. "It's just quieter here," she murmured, her eyes following the reflection of the light on P.E.K.K.A's sword. "And you don't bother me with idle chatter."

P.E.K.K.A tilted her head, her eyes blinking slowly. "I don't talk much."

"Exactly." Archer Queen smiled, pulling one of the bows from her blonde hair and letting it fall into her lap. "Most troops don't know how to keep quiet. You… are different."

A metallic thud echoed as P.E.K.K.A bent her knee, lowering herself to the chair's height. Even crouched down, she was still impressively large. "Do you like silence?"

Archer Queen leaned her head against the wooden wall, looking at the ceiling. "I like peace. And you are… peaceful. Even though you're a war machine."

P.E.K.K.A stood still for a moment, as if processing the words. "You're different too," she finally said. "The other troops treat me like a tool. You… don't."

Archer Queen looked at her, her fingers playing with the bow in her lap. "Maybe because I also know what it's like to be treated as just another piece on the board." She sighed. "We end up understanding each other." The noise of the battles outside seemed more distant now, as if the world had shrunk to fit only within the four walls of that barracks. P.E.K.K.A reached out hesitantly, and Archer Queen surprised herself by not recoiling when the metal fingers lightly touched her arm.

“You’re warm,” P.E.K.K.A observed, her robotic voice softer than usual.

Archer Queen chuckled, but didn’t pull her arm away. “And you’re cold. Literally.”

P.E.K.K.A’s purple eyes seemed to glow a little more intensely. “Not entirely.” She moved her hand slowly until her metal fingerprints met Archer Queen’s fingers. “In here… there’s warmth too.”

Archer Queen held her breath, feeling the unexpected touch. She had never thought of P.E.K.K.A as anything other than a relentless warrior. But now, in that silent moment, everything felt different. The touch of the metal hands against her skin made Archer Queen shudder, but not from discomfort.

It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant—the coldness of the steel contrasting with her own warmth, the grooves of the mechanical joints gliding carefully over her fingers. She turned her palm upward, allowing P.E.K.K.A to explore the contact.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Archer Queen asked, her voice lower than usual.

"Touch isn't… necessary in battle," P.E.K.K.A replied, her red eyes fixed on the point where their hands met. "But this is… interesting."

Archer Queen smiled, feeling a pang of something she couldn't name. "Interesting in a good way, or interesting in a bad way?"

P.E.K.K.A was silent for a moment, as if calculating the answer. "Good." The simplicity of the answer made Archer Queen's heart race.

Outside the barracks, a distant rumble announced an explosion somewhere on the battlefield, but neither of them moved a muscle. The world outside didn't matter now. Archer Queen leaned forward, closing the distance between them slightly. "What if we try something even more interesting?"

Before P.E.K.K.A could respond, Archer Queen raised his free hand and touched the side of the warrior's face where the metal was smoother. The reaction was immediate—a slight tremor ran through P.E.K.K.A's body, followed by a low, mechanical sound, almost like a purr.

"Did you like that too?" Archer Queen asked, his fingers now tracing the line of the metallic jaw.

"It's… a new protocol," P.E.K.K.A said, but her voice had lost some of its usual rigidity. "I don't have information to classify."

Archer Queen laughed, a genuine laugh that echoed in the empty barracks. "Not everything needs classification, my friend. Sometimes it's just about feeling."

And then, in a move that surprised even herself, Archer Queen leaned in a little closer and pressed her lips against the cold metal of P.E.K.K.A.'s cheek. It was quick, almost shy, but enough to make the warrior's eyes blink in rapid patterns, red and purple alternating like a crazed traffic light.

"And this one?" Archer Queen whispered, pulling back just enough to see the reaction.

P.E.K.K.A. stood completely still for exactly three seconds before answering. "Rebooting emotional systems." Her voice sounded broken, but when her eyes readjusted, there was something different about them—something Archer Queen had never seen before.

"Are you okay?" she asked, beginning to worry.

"Yes." P.E.K.K.A. raised her hand again, this time with less hesitation, and touched her own face where Archer Queen's lips had been. "Just… processing."