"Is it to your liking?"

You stare at the saleswoman, slightly panic-stricken as you are confronted by the sight of an exquisite gold chain necklace. "Yes," you say quietly. "Yes, it is, but—"

"Good," Mr. Brennan says briskly. "We'll take it, then."

The woman smiles primly. "Wonderful! Is there anything else you're searching for, dear customer?"

"No," you say faintly. Mr. Brennan smiles at you amiably, then turns back to the saleswoman. "Yes, we're looking for a pair of earrings as well. I was thinking silver?..."

The saleswoman, a lively android with chin-length, curly brown hair nods rapidly several times. "Yes! I have just the pair in mind!" She quickly ushers you to a different display case. You stand before a row of silver earrings. The first are shaped like conchs, the second like roses. "Do you have a preference?" she asks, standing pertly at attention.

Mr. Brennan looks at you expectantly. "I don't know," you say weakly.

"How about this pair?" she suggests, then moves over to and fishes through a drawer, pulling out something else and laying it on the counter. They're round, with a strange red symbol in the center. "Will these do?" she asks, "or perhaps these?" You hesitate, and the saleswoman sees your indecision. She feels through the drawer once more, pauses, then reluctantly pulls out a pair of plain silver studs. "These aren't as popular these days, but if you prefer this style..."

"Yes," you quickly jump in, "I like these." The saleswoman's eyes flicker over to Mr. Brennan. He appraises them with a critical eye. "No," he says after a moment's pause. Your heart sinks. The saleswoman clicks her tongue.

"Please give me a moment, I'll return shortly," she says. As she departs, Mr. Brennan turns to face you. Though his expression doesn't differ much from its usual stoicism, you have the distinct impression that he is less than impressed by your conduct.

"Amie."

"Y-Yes, sir?" you ask, trying and failing to keep a stammer out of your voice.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"What do you mean? I wanted to buy the silver studs... You said I could choose what I wanted."

Mr. Brennan's gaze could bore a hole through a sequoia. "Your misplaced concern for my finances is starting to grate on me, Amie."

You gulp. "I'm sorry. I just... I want to make you happy. I don't to be a burden..."

"And I have told you that you aren't. You have no reason not to trust me in this matter." He glances at the saleswoman, who has appeared once more. She has a small pouch in her hands. "Let's have a look at them," Mr. Brennan says commandingly.

The saleswoman nods quickly and presses the pouch into your hands. She smiles warmly at you, and you return the gesture as best you can. You carefully turn the pouch over, emptying half its contents into your palm. Mr. Brennan takes a step closer, and peers into your hand. Six pairs of wings glint back at him. The earring is asteriform and made of silver. Closer inspection reveals that at its center lies a face with closed eyes, from which seem to sprout six petal-like wings, giving it its starry shape. The wings are silver as well but gilded with gold on their outer edges.

"A Russian design. Rather uncommon," he comments. "16th century, I believe?" The saleswoman nods, impressed. "That is correct." She begins explaining the design's origins and history of the artisans who make the earrings to Mr. Brennan, who listens politely and occasionally interjects with a question or remark. In the meantime, you drop the earring's duplicate into your hand and stare at them both. What is it about these earrings that fascinates you so? You're not sure, but...

"Are they to your liking, Amie?"

You look up. Mr. Brennan and the saleswoman are looking at you expectantly. "Yes, Mr. Brennan. I like them very much."

A strange light enters his eyes, but only for an instant. Turning to the other android, he simply says, "These will do nicely." The saleswoman nods eagerly. "I'll be right back with the bag," she says to you before heading to the sales counter.

You and Mr. Brennan are left standing in place. He gives you a forced smile—in an attempt to comfort you after your earlier exchange, you think. You're suddenly filled with a feeling of shame. Here Mr. Brennan is trying to make this outing, this day a memorable one for you, your first outing in the world as a human's companion, and all you've done is give him reason to regret taking you along. You resolve to set aside whatever anxieties you might have and trust Mr. Brennan instead.

Mr. Brennan pays for the items. The saleswoman hands him a little bag, which you make no movement to take. "Have a nice day!" the android chirps. With that, the two of you walk out of the store.

Before you leave the commercial center, you ask Mr. Brennan to wait for a moment. You duck into a bakery, intending to buy a small pastry to take back to your husband. While you're there, you ponder what you should get him; the shop offers a variety of baked goods. You definitely don't want to get him anything with meat in it, not on a Friday. You're probably better off getting something sweet, like a macaroon or an éclair. You're in the middle of deciding what you should get when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, ready to scold Mr. Brennan for ruining your surprise—but it's not Mr. Brennan. It's a teenage boy, a younger version of your husband, really, only with sandy instead of brown colored hair. He leans close to you.

"Hey, baby," he says, "Anythin' catch your fancy? It's my treat." His eyes are a cloudy blue, like the sea on a stormy day.

You recoil. "Get your hands off me," you say, a cold shiver going down your spine.

He grins and his eyes widen, filling them with greed. "C'mon, don't act like that... You should be flattered. After all, I'm treating a bot like you as if you were a human chick..."

You feel your hand rise of its own accord and hit him. He falls back with a groan.

The crowd that had gathered to watch him jumps back and stares at you. "Hey!" someone yells. "That's no way to treat a human!"

You stand there, frozen. Your skin tingles and your stomach begins to churn. The boy gets back on his feet and looks at you incredulously. "I know what you are," he says with a glower. "You're gonna pay—OOF!"

Mr. Brennan's punch knocks the boy to the ground.

"You're not worthy of my time," he says. "Go harass another mechanical device. I suggest a sewage treatment system. It'll take more kindly to your drivel."

The boy looks up at Mr. Brennan, his mouth agape. With a snarl, he leaps back up and runs off. Mr. Brennan shakes his head. "The right to hit on androids, is it?" he mutters, then turns to you. "Are you unharmed?"

You nod, still shaken. Mr. Brennan surveys the sea of hostile faces. "Let's find a business which will better appreciate our patronage."