"Holy shit! What happened?"

You rub your eyes in disbelief, but still the sight remains. Eve is absolutely covered in bandages - fully half of the skin you can see is wrapped in gauze!

"Jesus..." you mutter, and the android gets a look of dread on her face - one that is quickly replaced by shock as you continue. "What happened? Are you okay? Did you get hurt by whatever killed Mr. Rossum?"

She doesn't respond - she looks like she isn't even certain how to - but she doesn't have to either. You immediately turn to Mr. Baxter in building fury. "How can you just stand by and let her work like this? She's injured! Badly! She needs care!"

The attorney meets your rage with a frown and a raise of his hand. "Noah, I can't **** Eve to stop working. I've tried. Believe me. My failure in this matter may well have something to do with the cause of her injuries, which appears to have been Mr. Harold Rossum himself."

Your anger slowly dies away into confusion, then concern. "...But... but she... He made her!"

Mr. Baxter nods grimly, in perhaps the most honest expression of emotion you've seen from the man yet. "He made her, as one of his 'playthings' - yes. And he used her, at least in part, as an expression of whatever base desires came about as a part of his preferred lifestyle. Hence the damage that has befallen her. If it's any consolation, it does not appear to trouble Eve in the manner it would a living being. If that doesn't improve your view of the situation, I'm afraid I have no alternatives. The technology behind these girls is... not something I believe you will find simple to repair, even if she'd cooperate in the matter. Which, for my part, she has not."

The lawyer shoots Eve a look of resigned frustration, and you can all but feel her wilt under his gaze. Yet still she stands there, silently, staring at the floor. What on earth is she waiting on?

"Hey... look at me..." you say softly, and the android maid looks up at you slowly. The one eye you can see - a strange, inhuman amber iris set on black - trembles in fear. Can these robots cry? If she can, it looks like she's about to. You move to hug her, to comfort her, but she lets out a low whimper and flinches away from you.

"It's going to be alright," you sigh at last, dropping your arms. "Okay, Eve? Whatever happened, it's over. Alright? He's gone. It's going to be okay."

You can't quite describe the mix of emotions that pass over the robot woman's face in response to your words. After a long, silent moment, Mr. Baxter feigns a cough. "Before we can do anything else here, it's imperative that I show you the rest of the property. The dictates of Harold's will and testament demand that you have full foreknowledge of the estate before you can elect to receive it. Eve, if you would excuse us, we must continue on."

At the very least, it is easy to understand the expression she shows at those words: relief. "Very well," she says quietly. "This one will continue with appointed tasks. If you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to call." She rushes away from you with as much haste as you imagine she could manage while still seeming polite - leaving you standing in the living room feeling, frankly, like shit. 'This one.' Fuck.

Lily seems to have vanished as well, disappearing during your brief introduction to her sister. You have to wonder how much of it she bore witness to.

Your quiet reverie is interrupted by a hand on your shoulder. "Please, follow me." Mr. Baxter half-leads, half-drags, you into another room of the main floor. "The first floor consists of traditional home living quarters," he says - in a flat, rote fashion - as he quickly guides you through a series of connected spaces. "Furniture is included, and almost entirely of traditional artisan quality. The dining room seats a maximum of eight, with an attached wet-bar in the corner. Appliances are, of course, top of the line. There is a guest half-bath just off the main room, and the garage is accessible from there as well through the back hall. A small front porch is available, as you have seen from our entry, and the back yard features a larger sun-deck next to the garden. As you can see, the kitchen also has its own attached breakfast bar for more casual dining. Hello Eve, don't mind us - just passing through."

In the kitchen, the android woman looks up from her mixing bowl with apprehension in her gaze - but before you can do more than notice her, you are led from the kitchen by your makeshift tour guide as he drags you to a set of stairs.

"Alright, upstairs now," Mr. Baxter states, almost monotonously, as he hustles you along on his rapid introduction to the Rossum home. "There is a guest bedroom here, as well as a guest bath with shower. The master bedroom is the only connection to the master bath, with this luxurious marble spa-tub. Next to the study is the servants' room, which to the best of my knowledge is unused."

"Wait," you say - one part of the attorney's torrent of information lodging firmly within your consciousness. "Unused?"

Mr. Baxter pauses, sighs, and gestures back towards the door he's hurried past. "So I've been told. See for yourself."

You enter the room and immediately frown. He's likely correct, as fucked up as that is. Where the other rooms you've seen are immaculately kept, obviously due to the continual efforts of the home's robotic servants, this room is different. It's static. Like a demonstration photo of what a room like this should look like. The carpet appears entirely unworn, and a touch confirms that the sheets are actually stiff where they've been tucked and folded. This is not a room that sees use for more than intermittent dusting.

Jesus.

Heading back to the attorney's side, you can think of nothing but questions. "So... where do they actually live? Are... are they always active? Do they sleep?"

You are answered, at least at first, by a long pause. Finally, he sighs. "I'm not entirely certain whether they actually sleep, to be honest. They technically have a bed, though what that actually means in this case is... not exactly clear. I'll need to show the basement to you next, anyways." You can hear a note of dread in his voice as he speaks. "Please, before we descend - I ask that you keep in mind all that exists up here. The living quarters of this property are, in truth, a very nice and decent modern home. If Mr. Harold Rossum's remaining effects are cleaned out properly, you can maintain a comfortable existence for yourself here - complete with two live-in caretakers for the property. Unfortunately, the will is unmistakable in its directives. To receive this, you must also take possession of everything else."

You frown at Mr. Baxter's words, but he already has one foot on the stairs down to the main floor. He looks back at you, the impassive expression of professionalism back on his face, and gestures downwards. "Whenever you're ready."