The thrill of lust for a stranger, the shallow ache for something familiar, and the warmth of love - the tin man had wanted this, to be something more than he had been and that he already was - but Sebastian was distracted by no such complications. Sebastian could not be relied upon, but he could be trusted. His purpose was to make the girls happy, though a task for which he was tragically ill-equipped. He was convenience for sake of convenience in the way that a microwave oven offered little improvement upon the past, but was a welcomed comfort when the thought of something more engrossing was tiresome.<br/><br/>"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Nakahara," Sebastian returned with a wink of his right eye, which was accompanied by an audible bell chime from his external speakers.<br/><br/>"Orange juice and champagne chilled. I prefer to prepare it with crushed ice in a frosted glass," the automaton went in a series of charming inflections that were perfectly audible without any strain of effort to listen, but also distinctly strange, as though watching him at a the theater. Sebastian had already began to prepare the drink for the young Raventree, and revealed a distinct and scripted frown when she cancelled her order. "Oh no. It is all for naught," he said, his head sinking, before a handsome smile claimed his face and he placed the glass of orange juice back into the refrigerator. "This will be delicious for 11 more hours and 48 more minutes."<br/><br/>The butler interfaced his fingers and gestured as though cracking his knuckles, though the idea was ridiculous, and tap-danced his way over a foot or two until he stood behind Izumi at the bar with a spinning flourish. The mage could hear the soft whine of the servos and actuators beneath his artificial skin at that proximity. He set his hands onto her back as a pianist might at the keys. He began with light strokes against her skin, but soon settled into presses of his fingers into her flesh and along the lines of her muscle. His technique automatically reacted and adapted to indications of pain or pleasure surveyed by facial recognition software and pressure detection. This experience was physically perfect, but entirely lacked the crests and troughs of trial and error that were an important part of getting a back rub from a stranger. "All these knots. You have been working too hard, Ms. Raventree! You deserve to be pampered," Sebastian said, as though straight from a catalogue.<br/><br/>A trail of Maeve and Kim's clothes were laid like breadcrumbs which lead into the bathroom. The dials and buttons integrated into the surface enormous garden tub were smooth to the touch, their activation indicated by the soft glow of LED lights. Maeve had found the button and dials for the water and temperature, which already began to steam the bathroom and fog the mirror. The uncertain pressing and prodding of the buttons had also dimmed the lights in the room and a series of small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, water-proof lubricant, bubble formula, and organic salts and oils had been pushed up from hidden compartments at the wall-side of the tub like tiny airplanes ready to launch from an aircraft carrier.<br/><br/>The rotating lens of one of the wall mounted cameras seemed particularly interested in Maeve's bathing.<br/><br/><br/>