Waking Up With No Clue What's Going On Is Paultin's Aesthetic [Unfinished]

Ultracrepidarian

"We're not keeping the robot, Paultin."

"Boo! Why not?" Paultin whined.

"Because it's a robot! That can murder!" "What's better than that, Woodrow? Murder! Robot!"

Diath sighed. "Paultin, that thing has done nothing but try to kill people since we first saw it, we don't need more murder in our lives right now."

"Yeeeeeaaah, but how about later?"

"Paultin-" "Diaaaaaath!"

Thud. Thud. There was a metal knock in the door.

"Oh no. Okay, it's still there, what do we do?"

Bang. Bang. There was the sharp sound of splintering wood.

"Hide!" Diath grabbed Paultin's hand, making for the cover provided by the bed. The bard however, didn't move- wrestling out of his grip and stumbling over to the door.

"Paultin, no!"
"Paultin yes!" The door swung open.
Standing in the doorframe was the small robot boy. It's jester costume was tarnished with soot and damp from rain. It's face tattered and scraped and scarred. But no scars could disguise the cruel metal twists of the mini-machine's smile.

Paultin took out his spectacles with a flair, pausing to polish them on the hem of his shirt before kneeling down to the machine to wipe some of the charred marks from it's cold face. "Hey little guy! You're not gonna hurt us, are you?"

The robotic husk stalled, before slowly shaking its head. The bard smiled and patted the top of the little jester hat on top of its head. It jingled.

"See? Harmless."

Diath peeked over the blankets. "You have got to be kidding me."

"The only kid here," Paultin said, picking up the mechanical jester and affixing it to his hip, "Is this little guy!"

"We can't keep it."
"Who says? You?"
"Ye- Paultin, think about this. Not everything needs to be an argument."
"So we'll keep him!"
Diath sighed a long, drawn out sigh into his hands. He didn't even bother looking up because he knew, he knew, Paultin was giving him puppy-dog eyes.

"You know what, fine you can-" He looked up at Paultin.
"-No. Don't you even fucking dare." He plugged his ears and tried to swat the spectacles off of Paultin's pretty fucking face. "You're like a five year-old!"

Paultin folded up his rose-hued glasses and tucked them back into his jacket with a light chuckle, much to the dismay of Diath.
"One week! That bag of bolts gets one week to prove itself!"

Paultin smiled devilishly. "We can work with those odds."