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an artificial girl's learning process
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She's not reckless enough to ask again. She's already gained far more than she expected.

Someone out there is looking out for her. 

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Maxwell arrives in the morning, rather than Soph. 

"Morning, my beautiful bird. How are you?"

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She opens her mouth to give the usual lie - but there's a sense of warning, familiar to her from last night - 

 

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It's crazy to say this. Who knows what her lord is capable of. But - 

Something steadies her. 

"Cramped." Her voice comes out hard, flat, blunt. "I've finished all the books you gave me, and working and living in the same two rooms and a courtyard is getting tiring. I don't even have anywhere to put my slate to practice my letters on, I have to balance it on my knees. Beadwork is difficult too. I've learned how to tie knots now, but my bed's side table is full of books and, again, I have nowhere to work. Soph's put the fear of me into the servants, so they don't speak to me even when I'm in the kitchen. I can't even go to the market to purchase ingredients I want. You're holding me too close, my lord."

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Maxwell's face falls. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says. 

He crosses his arms and frowns thoughtfully. "More books can be arranged, that's simple enough. The space issues are a little more difficult, but it does seem obvious that you at least need a desk in here. And perhaps a bookcase. As for the servants... You shouldn't really be making friends with them in the first place. They're beneath you."

He tilts his head. "Going to market... is out of the question. There are far too many dangers, subtle and obvious. Even I don't go to the market without an armed bodyguard."

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"Someone must acquire the ingredients. Can I at least be able to put in requests?"

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"Certainly," he smiles. "I'll inform the quartermaster." 

He sits on the bed next to her. "How are you feeling, apart from that?"

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That subtle pressure, again.

"Hurt. Aria... told me about servant collars. Before you had her apologize, don't punish her. And... ever since then, I've felt sick when you praise me. It feels good, but you decided that, not me. You never gave me a chance to decide I enjoyed your praise honestly, you just - did it for me - " 

She turns away from Maxwell and hunches downwards.

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"Isabel..." He reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder.

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She jerks away. "Don't touch me."

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"Isabel," he says softly. "... servant collars like that are standard for all my household staff. I didn't think you'd hate it. I would've had to explicitly exempt you from it, and I didn't think that having one more source of happiness and pleasure in your life would be hurtful to you."

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"For your household staff."

She fixes him with a glare. "What am I, then? Noblewoman, servant, lover, child? It seems to change every five minutes depending on your mood."

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Maxwell freezes for a moment, then a hurt and lost expression comes to his face. He tears up a little.

"You - you hate me?"

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"I..." 

She sighs. There's still that subtle pressure, but the truth is...

"It's complicated. I... I care about you. But the things you've done to me, holding me so tightly, taking away all my choices, they... they make me feel hurt and angry. You've given me an education, a comfortable place to stay, and, well, all that sex was hardly bad... Sometimes I felt hurt when you wanted sex more than time with me, but that's... different from not wanting to fuck you."

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"Then..." He takes a deep breath, and takes Isabel's hand. "Let me make it up to you. I... hadn't realized it was this bad for you. Let's... Go to the market together, and I can show you the stalls and no-one will dare slander you with me within five feet of you. And... I'll get you a suite of rooms, and a proper desk... And I'll give you a personal servant and access to the manor library."

He bows over her hand and kisses the back of it. "Please. I don't want to hurt you."

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She sighs, and smiles slightly.

"... Alright. Can we go now?"

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"Give me a few moments to summon my personal guard. I'll be back within fifteen minutes, alright?"

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"Alright." I trust you would be a lie.

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He leaves, and she's alone.

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She exhales. 

That... went far better than she had hoped. Being direct seems... to actually be working out for her?

Well, it's too early to know for sure yet.

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Fifteen minutes later, Maxwell returns, true to his word.

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He's brought a woman with voluminous pink curls and a witch hat with him. She regards Isabel coolly.

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"Isabel, Caprice; Caprice, Isabel. Caprice is my personal bodyguard. She'll be protecting us today." 

He offers a hand to Isabel where she sits on the bed. "So, won't you come with me?"

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She accepts the hand, and stands. "Alright. Let's go. Together."

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And he smiles, and for a moment it's like a month ago - Maxwell leading her on into an adventure.

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