Mr. Brennan walks ahead of you, and you fall behind. You're still unnerved by the scene at the bakery. That could have gone worse so easily. Thank goodness for Mr. Brennan... You bite your lower lip. You hope he won't get in trouble because of you... You slow down unconsciously.

"Amie?" Mr. Brennan asks, looking over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

You're not really sure how to put your feelings into words. "Can we stop and rest for a little while? Just for a little while..."

He regards you for a moment, then nods. Looking around, he notices an entrance to the city park. "Let's find somewhere quiet." You nod gratefully.

The park is very quiet. The sun is setting and few people remain. Golden shafts of sunlight weave in and out of the browning autumn trees. You notice a swing and go to sit on it. Mr. Brennan kneels in front of you, studying your face. "Amie, what's wrong?" You look into his frank, hazel eyes and feel yourself weakening. "I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

You look into his eyes, trying to will yourself to stop the trembling, the hot tears that threaten to fall. "For hitting that boy."

"Why would you apologize for something like that?"

"I..." You shake your head, sighing. You can't explain it. "It's just... I'm scared. I'm scared that they're going to find out. I'll get in so much trouble. And then you will too..."

"Who's going to find out? The Agency?"

You nod mournfully. He scratches his nose, thinking for a moment. "If it comes to that, I'll take responsibility. You saw that I gave him a pretty good wallop myself, right?" You nod again, a watery smile on your face. "But that's not the only reason why you're frightened, is it?" he asks. Again, you shake your head left and right. "I'm scared because I don't want you to hate me," you confess in a quiet voice. Mr. Brennan raises an eyebrow in unspoken question. You nod vigorously, as if to will him to understand. There's a long silence.

"Amie," he begins, "partly due to my previously mentioned condition, I'm not socially astute enough to pick up on the nuances of your feelings. I'm incompetent when it comes to relationships in general, really. If you want me to provide input on whatever... issue it is you're struggling with, you'll need to be more explicit." His eyes dully drop to the ground... out of frustration? helplessness? You can't say. Either way, you're momentarily taken aback by this display of vulnerability. You nod slowly, looking at him intently. You try to sense what he's feeling, but you're met by... nothing. It's like trying to see through a brick wall. A wave of sympathy passes over you.

"Mr. Brennan."

He looks up at you. "Yes?"

"Thank you for trying your best to help me. It... It means a lot to me. Is it okay if I tell you more?"

He nods. "Go ahead."

You take a deep breath. "I'm afraid... of disappointing you."

"Disappointing me?"

You swallow. "You've done so much for me since yesterday—today you've even gone out of your way to pick out so many fine things for me. But, that boy... somehow, he was able to tell right away that I'm an android." You struggle to find the words. "I'm afraid that... that after all your efforts, you'll have nothing to show for it. You'll have simply wasted your time and money on me..." You feel your throat tighten; fresh tears threaten to fall. You don't want to disappoint him. You don't want to hurt this man who has treated you with such kindness. "That's why I'm scared... because I know how much it would hurt to disappoint you. I don't want to cause that pain."

He takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling. "Amie, you can't disappoint me."

Your brow furrows in confusion. Can't? Not even won't? "How can you be so sure?"

Mr. Brennan's face is an expressionless mask. "Because I know how much you want to please me."

You turn beet red. "Oh."

"Your intentions will supply for any defects in your conduct." He pauses. "This is all rather cryptic and difficult for you, isn't it?"

You exhale shakily. "N-No, I think I understand... it's like what we discussed earlier, about communicating one's feelings. You want me to tell you how I really feel, but to also express that through my actions. So that you'll know without a doubt. And even if my actions fail, you can still be sure of my feelings."

He nods in affirmation. "That's right. Your intentions are foundational. I am always prepared to accept them in lieu of your actual accomplishments."

You bite your lip. "I'm confused, though. What are you expecting?"

"Nothing in particular. I'm just hoping." He smiles wanly. "The evil of the day will suffice thereof. Live day by day, Amie. That's all I'm asking of you."

You nod slowly. "I will... dear sir." You look down, reddening a little.

Mr. Brennan's lips twist slightly. "Ah. That again."

You quickly look up, all concern. "Are you wearied by—"

"No. It's fine. If you must know, I find it rather... cute." This last word comes out as if it was extracted from him like a bad tooth.

You feel a smile tug at the corners of your lips. "Thank you, dear sir." You follow Mr. Brennan with your eyes as he stands. You begin to rise yourself, but he gently holds you in place, his hands on your shoulders. You look up questioningly.

"Hold still. I've got another lesson for you." He steps behind you and you feel his hands on your back. “Close your eyes.”

You do so uncertainly... then gasp as he sends you flying forward!

"A-Ah!" A gold-violet sky fills your field of vision.

"Keep your feet up!" Mr. Brennan calls. You lift up your heels and find yourself seemingly nose-to-nose with the clouds. You stare upward, then side to side and finally downward as Mr. Brennan continues pushing you. Your artificial heart pounds in your chest. You can't see anything but fluffy pink clouds. And then it feels like you're falling, falling forever...

Mr. Brennan pushes you forcefully once more.

"D-Dear sir!"

"A little longer Amie, a little longer!" he calls out; and then, you hear him laugh.

At once, the world comes to a standstill. You process the audio and replay it over and over. This... is Mr. Brennan's laugh. Not his dry chuckles of amusement, his sardonic laughter. This is his genuine, heartfelt laughter.

Mr. Brennan sends you flying up in the air several more times, then gradually allows you to come back to earth. Your heart is still racing. As you come to a stop, you look over your shoulder at him. The mask is back, but you think you detect the lingering shadow of a smile.

"Well? What did you think?" he asks.

"... That your laugh is very much to my liking, dear sir."

His eyebrow arches. "My laugh?"

"Yes. It's lovely. It's kind, and carefree, but it has a certain strength to it. A certain conviction. It's endearing... and very much like you." You pause. "Thank you for showing me how to ride a swing, dear sir," you add.

Mr. Brennan studies you with an ambiguous expression. "... You're welcome, Amie." The two of you gaze into one another's eyes. Then, Mr. Brennan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. He opens it and takes out two glittering objects you recognize—the earrings he bought you earlier. He presses them into your hand, then stops. "Do you need to...?"

You shake your head with a smile. "They're already pierced." Or rather, your ears were made that way. Sweeping your hair out of the way, you set the seraph earrings in place. They match your outfit—match you.

Mr. Brennan nods curtly. "... They suit you. Now, it's almost time we headed home... but there's something I'd like to show you first."

"Of course, dear sir."