the automaton trails after amy, observing her gardening through a stony leer. though it isn't actively assisting her, it does currently carry two baskets filled with freshly-plucked flowers, per her request. the concept of handing out the now-dying plants seems moot, though it chooses not to question her methods, for sake of preserving the satisfaction written on her face. "you must be pleased with this harvest. it is quite bountiful."
in the baskets, flowers of varying types and colors can be found. she carries herself with a moderate amount of pride. she's worked diligently on this batch — though the credit can't be hers, alone. since the start of his tedious re-programming, metal's had its own hand in cultivating these riches.
" i am! " she halts at the rose bush, crouching to snip off a few of the fullest stems. " you should be too. you contributed to the turnout this year. "
spring perishes around them, making way for a warm, delightful summer to be embraced. it's a metamorphosis all around them, and her current companion is no different. she feels. however small, she feels. every small expression is to be celebrated. even now, as he spends the afternoon at her side.
" it should feel good or ... " a pause. she taps her cheek. " at least a little gratifying to plant something with your own two hands and see it grow! job well done, metal. "
