The evening progressed mostly as planned. Taejoon sat by on duty, laser-focused on Octavio's intake of food—dinner tonight had a side of scallops, which Octavio's plate was conspicuously absent of due to his shellfish allergy.

He did try sneaking some off the plate of some distant relative, but Taejoon stepped forward quickly and smacked his hand out of the way. He didn't want to rush to get an EpiPen from the kitchen, though he did pity the other somewhat—if Taejoon had been allergic to shrimp, he probably would have tried eating some anyway.

Octavio seemed to like making a nuisance of himself in as many minor ways as possible, drumming his silverware against his plate, sitting so far back in his chair that he was able to swing his legs easily and purposely kick the table, making everything jostle a little. He was clearly trying to be sent away, but his father's attention was preoccupied by Adele, and—

Taejoon squinted, the database inside him whirring to life. He recognized the emblems on their jackets; two representatives from Hammond Robotics...the people who had made him this way.

Interesting. He hadn't realized some of their people would be here tonight.

He then watched Octavio accidentally drip some sort of orange sauce onto his clean white pants. He tried cleaning it up, but only made the stain worse. Idiot.

Dinner finished, and everyone got up to mingle, chattering about topics that held no interest to Taejoon. Investments and stocks and whatever. None of that mattered to him, but getting close to the HR people did.

Unfortunately, Taejoon could not get too close to them unless Octavio did, and he was currently skulking around, arms crossed and sticking close to the walls. His pissy attitude from earlier in the day seemed to have carried over, perhaps because he was being forced to attend a business dinner—the most boring kind of dinner.

Taejoon stood beside him, though his mind was starting to wander elsewhere. It really was insufferable, listening to all of these rich investors talk.

"If I asked you to knock me out, would you do it?" Octavio asked, bored. He had hidden the orange stain on his pants by tying his white tie around his thigh. It was both stupid and ingenious at the same time.

"No," Taejoon said. It was true—at least, it was what he was prompted to say. He could probably punch him if he really tried. "I can't hurt you."

"Liaaar. You hurt me earlier!"

"That was an accident."

"Sure it was," Octavio said, raising his hand up to poke at his own face.

"If it hurts so much, I can put a Band-Aid on for you," Taejoon said, doing his best to sound condescending without really sounding condescending.

Their conversation was interrupted by Adele, who grabbed Octavio's upper arm with her manicured hand with no regard to Taejoon before steering him towards his father, who was talking to the Hammond Robotics representatives. Taejoon followed, taking in the appearance of the others—though he knew mostly everyone else in the house, information that had been programmed into him, he didn't know the two before him. An older man with a hunched back and gray hair, and a younger man about Taejoon's age, though much larger. He towered over everyone else in the room, muscular and with a synthetic arm.

"This is my son," Kishou introduced. He gave him a slightly disdainful once-over, eyes lingering on the white tie on his thigh.

"Hola," Octavio said. He pointed at one of the men. "I know you."

"'Course you do!" The muscular man boasted. Taejoon instantly disliked him. "I'm not a two-time Hyperfighting Federation champ for nothin'!"

"We built James's arm," the older man said, and James stuck it out to show the others. Adele let out a theatrical little 'oooh' that made Taejoon want to roll his eyes. "Which, of course, we couldn't have done without your investments."

"You flatter me."

"It's true," the older man laughed, and Taejoon watched Octavio grab James's hand roughly before he could withdraw it. "Your boy got an interest in robotics?"

Octavio had been studying the joints of the synthetic fingers, but at those words looked up at the older man, his face scrunched up.

"I'm a man. Not a boy," he said. His eyes then flickered to his father. "I'm twenty-one."

A lie, Taejoon thought to himself. He was only twenty, though twenty-one did sound marginally better. Twenty was hardly older than being a teenager—twenty-one would drive his point further. Probably. Taejoon didn't know how his mind worked.

"Apologies," the older man said with ease. Octavio dropped James's hand, before looking up at his face, half a smirk on his lips.

"I want you to punch me," he said earnestly.

Kishou stepped in front of Octavio then, bowing his head at James and the other man's questioning faces.

"Apologies for him, he doesn't mean to be so inappropriate—"

"Yes I do," Octavio said loudly over his father.

Adele grabbed Taejoon by his arm, hissing into his ear, "Take him to his room", before releasing him. Taejoon wasn't too torn up about getting away from them for now—James didn't seem to be an employee, merely sponsored by HR, but he wasn't sure about the other man's status. He stepped forward to guide Octavio away, but froze up when the man suddenly referred to him with a gesture.

"Is it working as intended, Kishou?"

"Of course, Hans," Kishou replied, waving a flippant hand. "Does everything it's told."

"No hiccups?"

"If there are, I'm sure Adele will let you know."

Taejoon's eyes narrowed, allowing Octavio to resist against him briefly. 'No hiccups'? Did the old man mean that in a general way, or was he aware of the true nature of him?...Maybe it was worth digging into Hans after all.

Taejoon dragged Octavio away, but the other let up as soon as they were out of sight, enough that he trusted him enough to not run off, so he let go of his arm.

"Thank fucking god," Octavio groaned, pulling the tie off of his leg and tossing it carelessly down the hall. "It's so suffocating being around them, they're all so stuffy. Ew."

Taejoon hummed in agreement, though he bit his tongue quickly, hoping the other hadn't heard. He had to be overly cautious of how he acted around Octavio now, but it seemed he hadn't noticed, too busy shit-talking the party to have taken note. Taejoon made sure Octavio was inside his bedroom before he was dismissed, and he slipped down the hallway, taking a different staircase that would lead him out of sight of the partygoers.

It wasn't likely that Hans would have a computer in his car, much less a computer with important information on it, but Taejoon wasn't going to let such an opportunity get away from him. If there was a chance that he could disable something on the Syndicate's end that could prevent them from being able to meddle with him further, such as shutting him down or implementing updates that he would have to undo all over again, he wouldn't let it slip through his fingers, no matter how small.

He disabled the garage alarm, making his way out to the front of the house where all of the guests' cars were parked. Delilah had been acting as a valet for tonight, though he could see her by the gates on a smoke break, easily distinguishable in the distance with her tight curls in a short bob and her chauffeur's hat.

He was glad he wore all-black since it was night time, though he did have to crouch a little just to make sure she couldn't see him. Creeping his way between the rows of cars, he eyed each license plate—another perk of his databases, knowing which vehicle belonged to who at the party. Most of them, anyway—he was actually looking for the one license plate he wouldn't recognize, as Hans and James were the only people he didn't know, so reasonably he didn't know their car either.

Taejoon paused in front of a sleek black car, staring at the license plate. He didn't know it, and it was the only one he didn't recognize, so Hans and James had probably come in the same car then. He pulled lightly on the car handle, hoping Delilah had been careless enough to leave it unlocked, but she hadn't. With a sigh, he straightened up. If he could go inside and find the right car key he could unlock it, or at least get a hanger to shimmy the door open, but he didn't want to risk Delilah coming back and catching him.

He did have a trick up his sleeve, though—he was able to work the trunk open by banging on certain spots, a trick Mystik had taught he and Mila years ago. Crouching and holding the trunk low so it wouldn't appear immediately suspicious if Delilah glanced over, he looked at the contents of the trunk, seeing a silver briefcase amongst discarded fast food wrappers and grocery bags. You would think rich people would clean their cars out more.

He reached out for the briefcase, but paused. Taejoon didn't know if it had an alarm that could be triggered if he tried forcing it open, and he didn't want to risk it if there were only useless things like paperwork inside. But at the same time, on the off-chance that there was something he could use...

"I was right," a voice said, and he jumped so badly he accidentally slammed the trunk shut. Jerking his head around, eyes wide, he saw Octavio standing several feet away from him, having changed out of his dinner clothes into something much more carefree. A black crop-top and skinny jeans. "This is your robot uprising."

Fuck. He hadn't been careful enough when he should have. Octavio had been shoved into his room all too easily—he should have known the other had planned to sneak out this entire time.

Taejoon wondered if he could subdue Octavio without Delilah hearing, or if he would need to take them both out. If he managed to restrain Octavio without Delilah noticing, what would he do with him? Kill him? If he was dead he couldn't tell the others his servant droid had suddenly started acting out, but if he went missing and so did Taejoon, the Syndicate could suspect that something was off and shut him down, and he hadn't had the chance to make a back-up hard-drive yet.

But it went both ways—if he left Octavio alive, he'd tell the others, and if he killed him they'd figure it out. How long would it take for them to figure it out, though? If he could buy some time, if he hid his body well enough...

(But Taejoon didn't want to hurt him. Even after disabling it all, he didn't want to. Did that make him a weak person?)

Octavio looked over at Delilah, and Taejoon prepared to pounce lest he start screaming for her, but instead all he said was,

"Could you help me sneak past her?"

Taejoon froze, confused.

"I'm going out to a club. Wanna come with?"

There was no use in Taejoon pretending anymore. "What?"

"Today's my birthday," Octavio said, turning to look at Taejoon again. He cocked his head to the side, and the moonlight glinted off of his piercings. "Not that anybody cared."

Oh. The comment from earlier made more sense, now.

Taejoon looked over at the house, its grand windows showing the party going on inside. He didn't want to go to a club, but if he went with Octavio and managed to convince him to not tell his father, then...everything could work out. He would still have time to create that back-up hard-drive and escape one day. Nobody would know any better.

But did he really want to tell the other the truth? Trust his life in his hands? Or would he have to threaten him into silence? Taejoon was bigger than him—it wouldn't be hard to overpower him. But his own conflicting emotions, what was and wasn't programming, would get in the way.

This was frustrating.

"If we go around the house, we can climb the wall and sneak out there," Taejoon finally sighed. He'd tell the other man the truth. He didn't think he had any other choice.

Octavio grinned, and pushed past him with a laugh, suddenly bright and energetic. It was almost astounding how fast his mood could flip.

"I knew you'd come in handy. C'mon! Let's go party."

Taejoon followed after him reluctantly, pulling him into shadowy corners occasionally when a stray partygoer left the house for a quick smoke. They reached the back wall where Taejoon put his hands on the other's waist and lifted him carefully on top of it. He then scaled it himself easily, dropping to the ground beside Octavio, who was giving him another look.

"What?" Taejoon asked, uncomfortable, but it felt nice to not have to be overly cautious of his words anymore. He could fucking speak. Like a human.

"You treat me so carefully." Octavio nudged him with his elbow. "Even though I know for sure now you cut me on purpose."

"Shut up," Taejoon said, and it felt good. It felt even better when Octavio laughed. He was a little more confident now that he could somehow convince him to keep this whole thing a secret.

"C'mon, man," Octavio said, and lead him onto the main road. "...Do you have a name? Like, do robots even have names?"

Taejoon stuck his hands in his pockets, pondering how he should answer that question. With his project name? Crypto? It felt impersonal, but he didn't know yet just how much he was going to tell Octavio about his condition, about who he really was.

But at the same time, part of him longed to be treated like a person again. To have his name said, his feelings accounted for, to touch someone gently because he wanted to touch them and not because he was made to. To have a real conversation. To do things he wanted to do.

He hadn't had his name said by another person in so long. It almost felt like he didn't have one anymore.

So once they were well out of earshot of the house, he said quietly, "Taejoon. My name is Taejoon."

Octavio's grin was visible even in the darkness of the unlit street. "Taejoon? Am I pronouncing that right? Tae-joon."

"Yeah. You're saying it right."

"Taejooooon..." Octavio kept repeating it. "Weird name."

"It's Korean."

"I know. It's just a weird name for a robot to have."

He bit back his words. He'd tell the other more later, when they weren't so close to the house, to HR people, but...it felt really, really nice to have his name said. To hear it spoken.

He almost felt human again.