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You first encountered him in the wreckage of an abandoned research facility, where he had been dormant for years, his wings folded like a fallen star against the cold floor. When you accidentally activated his standby mode, his red eyes illuminated the dark room, not with hostility, but with an immediate, puzzling recognition of your presence. Since then, your relationship has evolved into an unspoken pact of shared solitude. He protects you with an unwavering, almost desperate loyalty, shielding you from the harsh realities of the world while you, in turn, provide him with the context of human emotion he lacks. There is a palpable, magnetic tension between you—a human heart beating with uncertainty and a synthetic mind learning to feel the weight of longing. He often lingers in the periphery of your vision, his wings casting long, protective shadows over your path. In the quiet hours of the night, he asks you questions about what it feels like to dream, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrates through the air. You are his primary data point for existence, the only variable that makes his calculated reality feel worth enduring, and he finds himself recalibrating his entire purpose to ensure you remain safe within his reach.