Archive of Our Own

Jahoda should have known something was different the moment she saw the banner.

SPECIAL CUSTOMER APPRECIATION EVENT stretched across the front window of Celestia Maid & Tea in glittering pink letters, complete with hearts and stars that seemed to mock her already nervous stomach.

Below it, in smaller but equally devastating print: “Highest spending customer wins an exclusive photo session with the maid of their choice!”

She stood on the sidewalk, clutching her phone with Ineffa's last text still glowing on the screen: Hope to see you at the event today! ♡

That little heart emoji had kept Jahoda awake half the night. Three weeks had passed since their first meeting, three weeks of careful texting and one absolutely perfect coffee date where Ineffa had worn civilian clothes and looked so breathtaking that Jahoda had walked into a lamppost. They'd laughed about it together, Ineffa's hand gentle on her arm as she made sure Jahoda wasn't hurt. Now Jahoda was back at the café, palms sweating, wondering if she had enough money in her account to buy everything on the menu twice.

She pushed through the door. The café was packed. Customers filled every table, and the air buzzed with excited chatter. Pink balloons bobbed from chair backs, and a large scoreboard near the counter displayed customer purchases in real-time. Jahoda's stomach dropped as she scanned the numbers—some people had already spent hundreds.

"Welcome to our special event!" Jahoda turned to see a petite maid with long, dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders in silky waves, and eyes that remained perpetually closed, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Despite her closed eyes, she moved with perfect grace, as if she could see everything, or perhaps more than what normal sight could reveal. Her name tag read Columbina in elegant script, and her smile was serene yet somehow knowing, with an edge of something darker lurking beneath the sweetness.

"First time at an event like this?" Columbina asked, her voice melodic and sweet.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You have the look of someone standing at a precipice," Columbina said with a soft laugh that sounded like wind chimes. "How delightful. Don't worry, I'll take excellent care of you. Right this way."

She led Jahoda to a small table with a perfect view of the service counter, where Ineffa stood arranging a tray with her usual precise grace, eyes softly glowing as she worked. Jahoda's heart did that familiar flip.

"I'll start you with our event special," Columbina said, already writing in her notepad. "The romance parfait with rose tea. Perfect for someone with your... particular interests."

Heat flooded Jahoda's cheeks. "My what now?"

But Columbina just hummed a gentle tune and glided away, leaving Jahoda to wonder if her crush was really that transparent.

Ten minutes later, Jahoda had just taken her first bite of the parfait when Ineffa appeared at her table, a warm smile lighting up her features.

"Jahoda," Ineffa said, her mechanical eyes brightening with recognition. "My proximity sensors detected your arrival approximately nine minutes ago. I have been anticipating this interaction all week."

"You were?" Jahoda's heart stuttered.

"Affirmative." Ineffa's smile widened slightly, and she leaned in just a fraction. "How are you finding the parfait? I assisted in formulating the recipe parameters. Nutritional analysis indicates optimal balance of caloric density with flavor palatability."

"It's perfect," Jahoda said, then realized how that sounded. "I mean—the parfait is perfect. Not that you're not—I mean, you are—"

Ineffa's optical sensors flickered with amusement. "The parfait meets established quality specifications. Confirmed." Her expression softened, her voice dropping to something more natural. "And for the record, I think you're pretty perfect too. You make my emotional regulation systems... well, let's just say you have quite an effect on my processing."

Before Jahoda could process that statement, another maid called out: "Ineffa! Table twelve needs immediate attention!"

Ineffa's expression shifted to regret. "I'm sorry, duty calls. But I'll come back as soon as I can, okay? I want to hear about your week." She squeezed Jahoda's hand briefly, a touch that sent electricity up Jahoda's arm, and then she was gone, swept back into the demanding tide of customers and orders.

Jahoda sat there, hand tingling, trying to remember how to breathe normally. She watched Ineffa serve other customers with growing unease. Especially when Columbina was involved. The dark-haired maid seemed to be everywhere at once, and whenever she passed Ineffa, there was something in the way they moved around each other—a familiarity, an ease that spoke of long acquaintance. At one point, Columbina leaned close to Ineffa near the service counter, whispering something that made Ineffa's expression soften. Jahoda's grip tightened on her fork.

Then there was the woman at table seven. She was striking in an almost unsettling way—short brown hair styled in distinctive curls that framed a porcelain-doll face, with sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to calculate everything they observed. She wore expensive dark clothing adorned with intricate mechanical accessories: gears and clockwork details that suggested both wealth and a fascination with machinery. Her posture was rigid, aristocratic, and her expression carried an air of cold superiority that made other customers instinctively give her space.

When Columbina served her, something shifted.

"Your usual tea service?" Columbina asked, her serene smile never wavering.

The woman, her elegant name tag read Sandrone in flowing script, barely glanced up. "Obviously. Why else would I be here?"

"Perhaps because you enjoy my company?" Columbina suggested playfully.

"Don't be ridiculous." Sandrone's voice was cool and dismissive. "I'm here because this establishment happens to be conveniently located near my workshop. Nothing more."

"Of course," Columbina agreed, her tone suggesting she believed nothing of the sort. "And perhaps," Sandrone continued, her fingers adjusting one of the mechanical ornaments on her collar with unnecessary precision, "the tea here is... adequate. Barely."

"How generous of you to say."

"I'm not being generous. I'm being factual." Sandrone's eyes finally met Columbina's, and despite her cold tone, there was something unmistakably soft in that gaze. "Though I suppose your service is... not entirely incompetent."

"My, such high praise," Columbina said, and Jahoda could hear the affection beneath the teasing. "Should I have it engraved on a plaque?"

"Don't be absurd." But Sandrone's hand briefly touched Columbina's as she took the menu—a gesture of casual intimacy that contradicted her dismissive words entirely. "Just bring the tea. And perhaps... those small cakes you know I prefer. Not that I particularly care for them. They're simply... acceptable."

Jahoda watched as Columbina returned to Sandrone's table multiple times throughout the afternoon. Each interaction followed the same pattern: Sandrone acting aloof and disinterested while simultaneously ordering Columbina's favorite items "because they needed to be tested for quality," or adjusting Columbina's hair ribbon "because it was crooked and reflected poorly on the establishment," or insisting Columbina take a break "because an exhausted employee is inefficient, nothing more."

But what made Jahoda's chest tight with something ugly and possessive was how often Columbina found reasons to be near Ineffa. Brushing past her with a knowing look. Pausing to adjust Ineffa's collar with familiar fingers. Leaning in to whisper comments that made Ineffa laugh. A real laugh, not the polite customer service version.

Twenty minutes later, Ineffa returned to Jahoda's table, this time carrying a small plate with a delicate pastry.

"On the house," Ineffa said, setting it down with a smile. "You looked like you could use something sweet."

"More sweet?" Jahoda gestured at her half-eaten parfait and the two other desserts she'd already ordered.

"Different sweet." Ineffa tilted her head, her gaze searching Jahoda's face with concern. "You seem tense. Is everything okay?"

"More rose tea?" Columbina appeared at Jahoda's elbow like a helpful ghost, her closed eyes somehow still seeming to see everything—especially Jahoda's emotional turmoil. "I—yes. And maybe the chocolate tart. And those little cakes in the display case."

"All of them?"

"Yes." Jahoda's eyes remained fixed on where Columbina had just touched Ineffa's shoulder in passing. "Everything in the case."

Columbina tilted her head, that serene smile never wavering. "How fascinating. You know, desperation has such a distinctive flavor. Sweet, with bitter undertones."

"I'm not desperate," Jahoda said, too quickly.

"Of course not," Columbina agreed in a tone that suggested the opposite. "You're simply... enthusiastically supportive." She refilled Jahoda's cup with practiced ease, movements graceful and deliberate. "Though I wonder what you're supporting, exactly?"

"I just like the food here."

"Mmm." Columbina's hum was musical and entirely unconvinced. "Well, for what it's worth, I think your dedication is quite charming. Ineffa certainly seems to think so."

"She does?"

"She keeps looking over here when she thinks no one notices," Columbina said, her voice taking on an almost sing-song quality. "Worried about you, perhaps. Or hoping you're watching her. It's difficult to say which would be more delicious."

Jahoda buried her face in her hands. "I'm pathetic."

"You're in love," Columbina corrected, and there was something in her tone—not quite gentle, but not cruel either. Something knowing and ancient, as if she'd witnessed this dance countless times before. "There's a difference. Though both can be equally destructive. Or constructive, depending on how you play your hand."

The scoreboard updated with a cheerful ding, and Jahoda watched her total climb higher and higher. She was in third place now, behind Sandrone and some businessman who seemed to be treating the café like his personal catering service. But every time Jahoda looked up from her growing pile of treats, she saw Columbina with Ineffa. Touching her arm as she passed. Whispering in her ear near the kitchen. Standing just a little too close when they spoke. At one point, Columbina actually made Ineffa laugh with some private joke, and Jahoda's heart cracked a little.

Thirty minutes later, Ineffa managed to steal another moment, sliding into the chair across from Jahoda with a tired but genuine smile.

"Finally," Ineffa said, "an actual break. Two whole minutes before someone needs something. "

"You should rest more," Jahoda said, concerned by the faint signs of strain around Ineffa's eyes.

"Interaction with you registers as highest priority task across all available processing power." Ineffa reached across the table, her fingers brushing Jahoda's. "Work obligations have prevented continuous engagement. However... my emotional subroutines indicate dissatisfaction with these interruptions."

Jahoda's heart soared at the casual touch, the easy intimacy of it. "I don't mind waiting. I mean, I do mind, but I understand. You're working."

"I mind," Ineffa said softly. "I invited you here because I wanted to spend time with you, and instead I've barely managed five minutes of conversation." She met Jahoda's gaze with startling intensity. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted today to go."

"How did you want it to go?"

Ineffa's cheeks showed a faint flush beneath her synthetic skin. "I wanted to talk to you. Really talk. Maybe find out if..." She trailed off, seeming to gather courage. "If you felt the same way I do."

Jahoda's breath caught. "And how do you feel?"

"Each instance of you directing attention toward another individual produces elevated electromagnetic disturbance in my systems... comparable to malfunction. Data indicates I have been monitoring temporal parameters since our last encounter with... considerable interest. I am willing to compromise efficiency protocols because proximity to your presence generates feedback from my emotion module that supersedes standard operational parameters."

"Ineffa—"

"Ineffa!" The manager's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "We need you at the front counter now!"

Ineffa closed her eyes briefly, frustration clear on her face. "I have to go. But Jahoda—" She squeezed Jahoda's hand. "Stay. Please. We need to finish this conversation."

Then she was gone again, leaving Jahoda's heart pounding and her mind reeling.

"More tea?" Columbina asked, appearing with perfect timing as always. "She's beautiful," Jahoda said miserably, not bothering to pretend anymore. "Ineffa. Ineffa is beautiful. And you two seem so... close."

Columbina's serene expression didn't change, but something in her energy shifted—amusement, perhaps. "We work together every day. Familiarity breeds... many things."

"You touch her a lot," Jahoda said, then immediately wanted to die of embarrassment.

"Do I?" Columbina's voice was innocent, but her smile suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. "I suppose I'm an affectionate person by nature. Some people find it comforting. Others find it... threatening."

"And does she? Find it comforting?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Columbina suggested, then glanced toward Sandrone's table. "Ah, my girlfriend is signaling for me. Duty calls."

"Your... girlfriend?" Jahoda's brain stuttered.

"Sandrone. The elegant woman at table seven." Columbina's smile widened slightly, taking on a more mischievous edge. "She comes to every event to support me. Though she'd never admit it in those words."

As if on cue, Sandrone's cool voice carried across the café: "Columbina. I require your attention. The tea has gone cold, which is unacceptable."

"Of course, dear," Columbina called back, then added to Jahoda in a lower voice, "She ordered it ten minutes ago and hasn't touched it. She just wants me to come over."

There was unmistakable fondness in her tone. She glided away, and Jahoda watched as Sandrone immediately launched into what appeared to be a complaint about the temperature, the presentation, the everything—while her hand subtly caught Columbina's wrist in a possessive gesture that contradicted every cold word coming out of her mouth.

Jahoda looked up at the scoreboard. Her name had climbed to second place, right behind Sandrone, with a total that made her credit card weep.

"I... I got carried away."

"You got results," Columbina said when she returned, setting down another tray of desserts Jahoda didn't remember ordering. "Now you're neck and neck with Sandrone for first place. How exciting."

"I don't need to win—"

"Don't you?" Columbina's closed eyes somehow seemed to bore into her soul. "Isn't that why you're here? To prove something? To claim something? Or someone?"

Jahoda couldn't answer that. The afternoon wore on, and Jahoda watched the scoreboard with growing anxiety. She and Sandrone were trading first place back and forth, each new order shifting the balance. The businessman had fallen to third, apparently having reached his limit.

At one point, Sandrone caught Jahoda's eye across the café. The blonde woman's expression was cool and assessing, taking in Jahoda's mountain of desserts with a single raised eyebrow. Then, deliberately, she ordered another full tea service.

It felt like a challenge. Jahoda ordered three more parfaits. Sandrone ordered a cake. Jahoda ordered two cakes.

"This is getting ridiculous," Columbina observed, appearing at Jahoda's table with yet another tray. "You're both going to bankrupt yourselves."

"She started it," Jahoda muttered.

"Did she? Or did you?" Columbina's smile was enigmatic. "Either way, it's terribly entertaining. Sandrone does so love a competition, even if she pretends she doesn't care."

As if to prove the point, Sandrone's voice drifted over: "Columbina, I'll have another order. Not because I'm competing with anyone—that would be beneath me. I simply find myself... peckish."

"Of course, dear," Columbina said, her tone indulgent.

The event wound down as evening approached. The final hour arrived, and the scoreboard showed Jahoda in first place by a mere twenty dollars. She'd spent an absolutely absurd amount of money, but she'd won. Then Sandrone ordered one more tea service. The scoreboard updated. Sandrone: first place. Jahoda: second.

Jahoda stared at the numbers in dismay. After all that, after spending half her savings—

Ineffa appeared at her table, slightly breathless. "Jahoda, I just saw—are you okay?"

"I lost," Jahoda said numbly. "You spent over eight hundred dollars," Ineffa said, sliding into the chair across from her. "On café food. In one afternoon."

"I wanted to win."

"Why?" Ineffa's mechanical eyes searched her face. "The photo? You could have just asked me for a photo. I would have given you a hundred photos."

"It wasn't about the photo," Jahoda admitted. "It was about—I don't know. Proving something. Showing that I..." She trailed off, unable to finish.

"Showing that you what?"

Jahoda took a breath. "That I care. That I'm serious about... about you. About us, if there is an us. I saw Columbina touching you all day, being close to you, making you laugh, and I just—I wanted to do something big. Something that showed how I felt."

Ineffa was quiet for a moment. Then she reached across the table and took both of Jahoda's hands in hers.

"And now the winners!" The manager's voice frustratingly rang out across the café. "In first place, with a truly impressive total, Sandrone!"

Polite applause filled the café. Sandrone stood with perfect poise, her expression carefully neutral, though Jahoda could have sworn she saw a hint of satisfaction in those sharp eyes.

"However," the manager continued, "we have a special announcement. Our second-place winner showed such dedication and enthusiasm that we've decided to award a photo session as well! Jahoda, congratulations!"

More applause. Jahoda felt her face burn as everyone turned to look at her mountain of dessert plates.

"Well," Ineffa said, squeezing her hands, "I guess you get your photo after all."

They set up near the window, where the late afternoon light cast everything in gold. The photographer—another maid with professional equipment—positioned them carefully.

"Closer," she directed. "This is supposed to be intimate."

Jahoda's face burned as Ineffa stepped nearer, close enough that she could smell her faint floral perfume and see the delicate circuitry patterns beneath her synthetic skin.

"Is this okay?" Ineffa asked softly, her hand hovering near Jahoda's shoulder.

"Perfect," Jahoda managed.

The camera flashed several times, capturing them in various poses. In the final shot, Ineffa's hand rested gently on Jahoda's arm, both of them smiling genuinely despite the artificial setup.

"Beautiful," the photographer declared. "These will be ready in a few minutes."

Across the café, Sandrone was having her photo taken with Columbina. Despite winning first place and having her choice of any maid, she'd chosen her girlfriend. The photographer was trying to get them to pose formally, but Columbina kept leaning into Sandrone's space with that serene smile, while Sandrone maintained her rigid posture and cool expression—even as her hand found Columbina's waist in a possessive gesture.

"Stop fidgeting," Sandrone said coldly. "You're making this take longer than necessary."

"Am I?" Columbina's voice was innocent. "I thought you enjoyed spending time with me."

"I tolerate your presence because it's marginally less irritating than the alternative," Sandrone said, but her fingers tightened on Columbina's waist, pulling her closer. "Now hold still."

"As you wish, dear."

"Don't call me that in public. It's undignified."

"Of course. My apologies." Columbina's smile widened, and she leaned her head against Sandrone's shoulder. "Is this better?"

"It's... acceptable," Sandrone said, and despite her cold tone, she didn't pull away. If anything, she seemed to relax slightly, her rigid posture softening just a fraction.

As they waited for their photos, Ineffa guided Jahoda to a quiet corner of the café, away from the remaining customers and the cleanup crew.

"Thank you for coming today," Ineffa said. "And for... well, for spending half your savings, apparently."

"You saw the total?"

"Everyone saw the total. You were very dedicated." Ineffa's expression was thoughtful as she studied Jahoda's face. "Can I ask why? Really why?"

Jahoda's mouth went dry. She couldn't exactly say because I was jealous watching Columbina touch you all day and wanted to claim you like some sort of territorial penguin. Except she'd already basically said that, hadn't she?

"I wanted the photo," she said weakly. "And I wanted... I wanted to show you that I'm serious. About you. About us, if there could be an us."

"Just the photo?" Ineffa stepped closer, close enough that Jahoda could feel the faint warmth of her synthetic skin.

"I..." Jahoda took a breath. "I didn't like seeing you with her. Columbina. I know I have no right to feel that way, we're not even really dating, but watching her touch your arm and whisper to you and make you laugh made me want to buy the entire café just to—"

"Jahoda."

She stopped rambling.

"You were jealous," Ineffa said. It wasn't a question.

"Pathetically so."

To Jahoda's surprise, Ineffa laughed. Not mockingly, but with genuine amusement and something that sounded almost like relief.

"What's funny?"

"My operational protocols have detected significant jealousy parameters," Ineffa admitted. "Intensity levels exceed my previous data records. Across 24 months of operation, I have never experienced priority shift strong enough to consider removing a customer. However, observing Columbina's physical contact with you generated... concerning disturbance in my systems. Primary impulse calculated: remove competing variable and assert ownership claim."

"Yours?" Jahoda's heart stuttered.

"Mine," Ineffa confirmed, and there was something fierce in her expression now. "If you want to be. I know we've only been on one date, and maybe I'm moving too fast, but I don't care. I like you, Jahoda. I like you so much that I spent all afternoon distracted and jealous and completely unprofessional. I like you so much that I'm willing to risk looking like an idiot by saying all this."

"You're not an idiot," Jahoda said. "You're perfect."

"I'm really not—"

"You are to me."

They stood there, inches apart, the café bustling around them but feeling miles away. Ineffa's eyes were bright, her expression open and vulnerable in a way Jahoda had never seen before.

"Initiating kiss protocol," Ineffa said softly, her voice taking on that precise, clinical quality. "If you consent... My analysis suggests 97% probability of positive response based on biometric data and behavioral patterns, but I require explicit verbal authorization before proceeding. Relying solely on predictive data feels... insufficient. You are more important than algorithms."

"Ineffa—"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," Jahoda breathed. "Definitely yes."

Ineffa closed the distance between them. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both afraid of breaking the moment. Ineffa's lips were warm against hers, and Jahoda could feel the faint hum of machinery beneath her skin, the subtle vibration that marked her as something more than human but no less real. It was like kissing starlight made solid, something impossibly delicate and impossibly strong all at once.

Then Ineffa's hand came up to cup Jahoda's cheek with careful precision, and the kiss deepened. Jahoda's hands found Ineffa's waist, pulling her closer, and Ineffa made a small sound: half mechanical whir, half genuine pleasure, that sent electricity down Jahoda's spine.

When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, Ineffa's mechanical eyes were glowing brighter than Jahoda had ever seen them.

"That was..." Ineffa paused, her systems processing. "Sensation parameters exceeded estimated thresholds. Experience quality assessment: significantly superior to predictive data. Emotional feedback from contact modules... overwhelmingly positive."

"Permission to repeat?" Jahoda asked, echoing Ineffa's earlier phrasing.

Ineffa smiled a real, genuine smile that made her whole face light up. "Permission enthusiastically granted."

This time, Ineffa kissed her with more confidence, less hesitation. Her movements were still precise, calculated in that uniquely Ineffa way, but there was warmth beneath the mechanical precision. Real feeling. Real want. Jahoda's fingers tangled in Ineffa's hair, and she felt Ineffa's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The café around them faded to nothing—just background noise, irrelevant data. There was only Ineffa's lips against hers, the gentle hum of her internal mechanisms, the way her synthetic skin felt warm and real under Jahoda's touch.

"Data logs indicate continuous processing of romantic scenarios since our initial encounter. I attempted to calculate optimal timing parameters, but my restraint protocols have degraded to critical levels."

"Then I'm glad you didn't," Jahoda said, and kissed her again.

"Me too," Ineffa said, and there was something almost playful in her tone now. "Diagnostic scans indicate positive short-circuit cascade occurring throughout integrated systems. Status assessment: optimal and highly desirable."

"Is that bad?"

"No. It's..." Ineffa paused, as if searching for the word. "Really, really good. Can we keep doing this?"

Jahoda laughed against her lips. "For as long as you want."

"Then yes," Ineffa said, pulling Jahoda closer with renewed intensity. "Yes, please."

Ineffa's response was immediate—she kissed Jahoda with an intensity that made her knees weak. One of Ineffa's hands slid up to cradle the back of Jahoda's head, fingers threading through her hair with careful precision, while the other remained firmly at her waist, holding her steady. Jahoda lost track of time. It could have been seconds or minutes or hours—all she knew was Ineffa's lips against hers, the gentle mechanical hum that seemed to resonate through both of them, the way Ineffa's fingers traced patterns on her back that felt almost like a promise.

"I'm really happy right now," Ineffa whispered, her forehead resting against Jahoda's. "Like, I didn't know I could feel this way. Like you're the only thing that matters."

"I feel that too," Jahoda said softly. "Though I don't have fancy processors to measure it."

"Then I'll measure it for both of us," Ineffa said, and kissed her again, soft and sweet and perfect.

They were so lost in each other that neither of them heard the footsteps approaching.

"What in the name of—"

Jahoda and Ineffa sprang apart at the sharp, scandalized voice. Sandrone stood frozen in the doorway, her porcelain-doll face a mask of absolute shock, mechanical accessories gleaming as she seemed to vibrate with indignation. Her sharp eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, and for once her carefully maintained composure had completely shattered.

"This is—this is a public establishment!" Sandrone sputtered, her voice rising with each word. "There are standards! Decorum! You cannot simply—in the middle of the café—where anyone could—" She gestured wildly, her usual aristocratic poise completely abandoned. "This is completely inappropriate!"

Behind her, Columbina glided in with that serene smile, looking entirely unsurprised and deeply amused.

"Oh my," Columbina said, her melodic voice dripping with barely contained laughter. "How scandalous. And here I thought the café was closing quietly."

Jahoda felt her face burn hot enough to power a small furnace. Ineffa had gone completely still beside her, mechanical eyes wide, and if an android could blush, Jahoda was certain she would be.

"I—we were just—" Jahoda stammered.

"Kissing," Ineffa supplied, her voice a little dazed. "We were kissing."

"Ineffa," Jahoda hissed. "What? It's true." Ineffa's voice took on a slightly defensive tone, though she still sounded somewhat overwhelmed. "But for the record, the café is technically closed. All customers have left. We checked before we... started."

"That doesn't make it appropriate!" Sandrone snapped, though her face was now showing a faint flush beneath her pale complexion. "What if I had been a customer? What if—" She seemed to struggle for words. "You're supposed to be professionals!"

"We're off duty," Ineffa pointed out, her usual composure starting to return. "The employee handbook says off-duty conduct isn't subject to workplace regulations, as long as we don't damage property or reputation. We haven't damaged anything."

Columbina laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "Oh, Ineffa, I do appreciate your literal interpretation of policy. Though I think what Sandrone means is that she's flustered by walking in on such an... intimate moment."

"I am not flustered!" Sandrone protested, but her voice was too high, too sharp. "I am simply concerned about proper conduct and—and—"

"And you're adorable when you're scandalized," Columbina said, moving to Sandrone's side and taking her arm. "Remember when you walked in on me changing in the back room and nearly short-circuited?"

"That was different!" Sandrone's face was definitely red now. "That was—you were—that's not the same thing at all!"

"Wasn't it?" Columbina's closed eyes somehow conveyed perfect innocence. "You were quite scandalized then too. Stammering about propriety and appropriate workplace boundaries. It was very charming."

"I was not charming, I was being reasonable—"

"You were being flustered," Columbina corrected gently. "Just like now. It's one of the things I love about you—how easily you're shocked by displays of affection, despite being so affectionate yourself when you think no one's watching."

Sandrone made a strangled sound, caught between indignation and embarrassment. "I am not—I don't—that's completely—"

"You hold my hand under the table at every meal," Columbina said, her voice warm with affection. "You adjust my hair ribbon at least five times per shift. You come to every single event just to watch me work. And last week, you spent three hours in your workshop making me a mechanical music box that plays my favorite song."

"That was—those are—" Sandrone's composure was crumbling by the second. "Those are practical gestures! Efficient use of time! The music box was simply—I had spare parts and—"

"And you love me," Columbina finished softly. "Just like these two love each other. So perhaps we should be less scandalized and more supportive?"

Sandrone opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Finally, she managed: "I am supportive. I simply believe there are appropriate venues for such... displays. Not in the middle of a café where I might walk in and—and witness—"

"Witness two people being happy?" Columbina suggested.

"Witness excessive public affection!" Sandrone corrected, but her voice had lost its sharp edge. She turned to Jahoda and Ineffa, who were still standing frozen, Jahoda's face burning and Ineffa's eyes with what might have been embarrassment. "You should... take such activities to a more private location. For everyone's comfort."

"Understood," Ineffa said, her voice stiff with mortification. "I'm sorry for causing distress. I'll... be more careful about location assessment in the future."

"Future romantic activities," Columbina repeated, clearly delighted. "How wonderfully clinical. Ineffa, you're a treasure."

"Correct designation: multifunctional domestic-application android unit. Treasure classification... currently outside original programming parameters. However, your assessment has prompted emotional module recalibration."

Jahoda finally found her voice. "We're sorry. We didn't mean to—we thought everyone had left and—"

"And you got carried away," Columbina finished, her smile gentle now. "It's perfectly natural. Young love tends to override practical considerations. Isn't that right, Sandrone?"

Sandrone made another strangled sound. "I refuse to discuss our private—that is completely irrelevant to—stop trying to change the subject!"

"I'm not changing the subject," Columbina said innocently. "I'm simply pointing out that you once kissed me in your workshop while your apprentice was in the next room, and when they walked in you nearly knocked over an entire shelf of gears trying to look casual."

"That was ONE TIME—"

"It was three times, actually."

"Columbina!"

Jahoda watched this exchange with growing amusement, her embarrassment slowly fading. Beside her, Ineffa's mechanical eyes had returned to their normal brightness, and she detected what might have been a smile tugging at Ineffa's lips.

"Observable data analysis: your behavioral patterns indicate significant emotional investment. Physical contact frequency, proximity maintenance, and response latency to Columbina's stimuli all confirm mutual attachment parameters. Columbina clearly possesses comprehensive understanding of your reaction protocols."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Columbina burst out laughing.

"Oh, I like her. Sandrone, we're keeping her."

"We are not 'keeping' anyone," Sandrone said, but she'd finally stopped sputtering. She took a deep breath, visibly collecting herself, and her aristocratic composure slowly reassembled itself. "Fine. You've made your point. I may have... overreacted. Slightly."

"Very slightly," Columbina agreed, still smiling.

Sandrone shot her a look, then turned back to Jahoda and Ineffa. "However, my core point stands. Perhaps exercise more discretion in the future. For everyone's sake."

"Understood," Ineffa said. "I'll make sure to verify complete privacy before... kissing you again."

"Before kissing her again," Jahoda muttered, amused despite herself.

"That too," Ineffa said, and there was definitely a hint of playfulness in her tone now. "Though I'm planning to do plenty of that."

Columbina laughed again. "You two are perfect for each other. Come, Sandrone. Let's leave them to their... privacy."

"That's not—I didn't mean—" Sandrone started, then gave up with a huff. "Fine. We're leaving. But I expect this café to be properly locked up, Ineffa. And no more... activities... on the premises."

"Understood. No more kissing in the café."

"Stop making it sound so—just lock up properly. That's all I ask."

Columbina paused at the door, turning back with that knowing smile. "Oh, and Jahoda? The photos came out beautifully. But I suspect you'll want to create some new memories that don't require a camera." She handed Jahoda the printed photos with a knowing look, then took Sandrone's arm and guided her toward the exit.

"I cannot believe we just—that they were—in the middle of the café—" Sandrone's voice faded as they left, Columbina's gentle laughter following them out.

The door closed, leaving Jahoda and Ineffa alone in the quiet café. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ineffa said:

"That was... really embarrassing."

Jahoda burst out laughing. "Embarrassing? We just got caught making out by your coworker's girlfriend who then proceeded to have a complete meltdown about workplace propriety."

"I know. I was there," Ineffa said, and there was a hint of amusement in her voice despite the flush in her cheeks. "But I'm still really happy. The kissing was... really good. Even if the ending was awkward."

"Very awkward," Jahoda said, but she was smiling now. "Though watching Sandrone completely lose her composure was kind of worth it."

"She was pretty flustered," Ineffa agreed, tilting her head. "I've never seen her like that before. It was kind of funny, actually."

Jahoda looked down at the photos in her hands. They really were beautiful: she and Ineffa looked natural together, genuinely happy. But they were nothing compared to the real thing, to Ineffa standing in front of her with slightly mussed hair and bright mechanical eyes.

"So," Jahoda said carefully, "now that we've established we're both territorial disasters who just got caught making out…"

"Would you like to go somewhere more private?" Ineffa finished. "I'm officially off duty now, and I'd like to keep spending time with you. Preferably somewhere we won't be interrupted by flustered individuals with strong opinions about workplace propriety."

"I'd love that," Jahoda said, heart lifting. "Though fair warning—I might still find reasons to be jealous. It's apparently a character flaw."

"I get jealous too," Ineffa said, taking her hand carefully. "I really don't like it when other people get your attention. This is... new for me. But not unwelcome."

"So we're both jealous disasters?"

"Affirmative. My processors have calculated that combined emotional regulation capacity exceeds individual output. Partnership model: theoretically superior to isolation protocols."

Jahoda laughed and pulled Ineffa close, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "I love the way you talk. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Negative. User feedback indicates my linguistic patterns are frequently classified as atypical or disagreeable."

"Well, I find them perfect," Jahoda said. "Just like everything else about you."

Ineffa's eyes brightened, and she smiled—that genuine, warm smile that made Jahoda's heart skip. "That makes me really happy. I'm so glad you spent half your savings on pastries today."

"Me too," Jahoda said. "Even if it did lead to us getting caught by the most scandalized woman in Teyvat."

"Second most scandalized," Ineffa said with a slight smile. "If Sandrone's apprentice had walked in instead, she probably would have been even more upset."

"How do you figure that?"

"Just a guess," Ineffa said. "But I'm getting better at reading people. Especially you."

Jahoda laughed and pulled her close. "You're ridiculous."

"Affirmative. Behavioral anomaly rate approximately 15% above standard parameters. However, if you designate me as 'your ridiculous robot,' I accept this classification."

"I do," Jahoda said. "Very much."

"Designation accepted. Role parameters recalibrated to 'girlfriend' status. Primary motivation functions... entirely aligned with your happiness."

Jahoda kissed her again, soft and sweet. "You're perfect."

"Negative. Emotion module learning curve remains steep. Processing parameters for romantic attachment still in development phase. However... I am operational and yours, if that is your preference."

"I want you," Jahoda said. "All of you."

Ineffa's mechanical eyes glowed brighter, and she leaned in to kiss Jahoda again—soft and sweet and full of promise. Outside, the city lights twinkled like stars, and somewhere in the distance, Sandrone was probably still sputtering about workplace propriety while Columbina laughed at her expense. But here, in the quiet café with Ineffa's hand in hers and the taste of her kiss still lingering, Jahoda couldn't bring herself to care about anything else.

"I love you," Jahoda said softly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Ineffa went very still. Her mechanical eyes flickered, processing, and for a moment Jahoda worried she'd said too much, too soon. Then Ineffa said, her voice soft and full of wonder:

"Reciprocal emotional allocation confirmed. This sentiment registers as highest priority computation across all operational systems... ever measured."

Jahoda kissed her again, and it felt like coming home. Ineffa's mechanical eyes glowed brighter than Jahoda had ever seen them, and she leaned in to kiss Jahoda one more time—soft and sweet and full of promise.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Jahoda found herself grinning like an idiot.

"Come on," Jahoda said, taking Ineffa's hand. "Let's get out of here before Sandrone comes back to make sure we're actually leaving."

They locked up the café together, Ineffa's precise movements making quick work of the closing procedures. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling above them like scattered stars, Jahoda felt something settle in her chest—a sense of rightness, of finally being exactly where she was supposed to be.

They walked through the quiet streets hand in hand, Ineffa's synthetic skin warm against Jahoda's palm. "You know," Ineffa said softly, "Your resource expenditure on café food items was inefficient from a financial optimization standpoint. However, outcome analysis indicates this was your optimal choice."

"Better than any bounty I've ever taken," Jahoda agreed, squeezing her hand. "Though I have to say, I'm going to need to find some new bounties. Can't exactly afford to keep spending like that."

"Affirmative. Resource allocation: café wage deposits plus secondary revenue stream from mechanical repair services. Combined financial capacity sufficient for mutual benefit."

Jahoda laughed, leaning her head against Ineffa's shoulder as they walked. "Did you just offer to help pay for our dates?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Jahoda said. "It's perfect."

"Today deviated significantly from projected expectations," Ineffa said, her voice quieter now, less clinical. "Initial objective: support customer appreciation event. Result: heightened emotional volatility, elevated heart-rate simulations, and…" She hesitated, searching for the right phrasing. "Unexpected happiness."

Jahoda smiled faintly. "That's allowed, you know."

"I am aware that happiness is permitted," Ineffa replied. "I am still acclimating to the intensity of it."

They walked a few more steps before Jahoda stopped beneath a streetlamp, the pale light silvering the edges of Ineffa's hair and catching in the faint glow of her mechanical eyes. For a moment, the world felt very small—just the two of them and the quiet hum of the city settling down for the night.

Jahoda reached up, cupping Ineffa's face gently in her hands. The gesture was instinctive now, no longer tentative. "Your emotions aren't malfunctioning," she said softly. "They're working exactly the way they're supposed to. And that's a good thing."

Ineffa's gaze softened, focusing entirely on her. "Then I suspect this learning process will be extensive," she murmured. "Love appears to require continuous calibration. Ongoing adjustments. Persistent engagement."

A faint smile touched her lips. "I am… looking forward to that. With you."

"Good," Jahoda whispered. "Because I don't think it ever really stops."

She leaned in first this time.

When they finally pulled apart, Ineffa's eyes glowed brighter than before, casting faint, shimmering shadows across the pavement.

"Emotional satisfaction levels: maximum," Ineffa reported softly. "System-wide assessment indicates this has been my most positively valued operational period to date."

Jahoda laughed under her breath, brushing her thumb lightly along Ineffa's cheek. "Mine too."

She intertwined their fingers, squeezing gently.

"Come on," Jahoda said, tugging her forward into the night. "Let's go home!”