Chapter Text
A week gone, and Sam noticed nothing missing. Quorra relaxed at last, but she knew better than to release her bounty from her wardrobe, a place she was now certain Sam would never inspect. She reached in and smiled, running fingers down the smooth contours and the metal’s familiar cool. Solid, self-contained, robust.
No matter how much the Users’ world changed from day to day with its weather and its endless clothes and Sam’s hectic meetings, the toaster remained constant. And unlike her hapless brethren, her doomed guard or her self-sacrificing Maker, the machine would never leave her.