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Verity curled up against the side of Springer’s leg, clutching her soft, warm blanket tighter around her with one hand, to guard against the chill of the early spring night. With her other hand, she traced a constellation – or an approximation of it – that she could recall from some astronomy book she’d found some time ago, one that clung to her memory for one reason or another.
As she pointed out stars she could remember, only in vague senses with little proper know-how (amazing how little she knew about Earth astronomy, considering her time spent in space), Springer recalled ones he’d been to in the past. Places he’d seen throughout his millions of years out in space, compared to her measly handful. He kept the war out of his stories, sticking to tales of exploration, of wonder of far off planets and solar systems. All in the name of keeping things light; a welcome idea, all things considered.
It was something that could be called cozy; comfortable after everything they’d been through.
As the night drew on and Verity’s eyes grew heavy, she prepared to reach over and knock on his metal plating, to get him to turn into a car so she could sleep in his backseat. Or at the very least, get her to a hotel so she could crash for the night. But then she noticed something: Springer’s engine rumbling softly, differently than his usual vehicular rumblings. Slow and methodical, instead of “raring to go.” She paused, curled fist ready for knocking hanging in midair, and craned her neck to look up at him. From her position on the ground, at an odd angle, she could make out a faint, contented smile on his face.
“Oh my god.”
He laughed, almost a little embarrassed, and said, “What?”
His voice rumbled with the sound, and Verity raised an eyebrow. If he hadn’t been made of metal, and her hand wouldn’t break on contact, she would have punched him on the arm.
“Are you purring?” she asked. She said it as if she would have no greater revelation in her life, however long that would be.
Springer didn’t say anything for a long moment, his rumbling purr slowing and quieting to a halt. Verity frowned in response, an expression verging on a comical pout.
“Don’t stop for little ole me,” she said. “It was cute.” She leaned against him. “You’re like a giant metal cat.”
He laughed again, less embarrassed. “Is that a thing cats do on Earth?”
Verity’s eyes went wide. “Yes??” She hoped the shock in her voice was enough to convey that her question had more than one question mark, just for emphasis. “Like when they’re happy they make this rumbling noise and it’s amazing.” She paused to yawn. “Okay, okay. Tomorrow, I’m dragging your avatar to a pound or something so I can show you kittens. I want to see you, Springer the Wrecker, absolutely covered in purring kittens. To prove a point.”
“That I’m like a cat?”
Verity hummed an affirmative, and tapped her knuckles on his leg. “But I need some sleep first, car boy.”