The girl swiveled her head around to view the room that at the moment was in an orderly chaos. With bits of wire sticking out of various objects, paper strewn across the floor and random toys keeping them from blowing away in the slight breeze, I suppose it really looked disorganized. But all of it was orderly to my mind. Everything was in it's proper place.
"so chris... What do you do exactly?"
"Topher" I mumbled and she quirked her head at me.
"I'm sorry?" I cleared my throat and willed my hands to stop trembling and sweating.
"I-it's not Chris. It's Topher. Chris was my father." I bobbed my head back and forth with an awkward half smile "Unfortunately." and cue the dorky laughter. A choppy anxious sound.
She only smiled and nodded her head, choosing to continue surveying the room. Her hand swept a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. It seemed like a quirk, seeing as that was the eighth time she'd done it in five minutes. Not that I was counting of course. I just couldn't help but notice it. I couldn't help but notice all her traits, because I couldn't stop looking at her.
I catalogued everything about her. Not like as I would for any other would-be-doll; cataloguing faults like scars or blemishes to make up stories about depending on the engagement. But really just taking her in. Watching her bite the side of her lip as she looked down at the dolls unaware state, and how she hugged herself tightly realizing she was about to become one of them. How her hair and nails were taken care of, but not to a vain point. How her hair slipped into her eyes and exactly one hundred fifty seconds later she would notice it, but choose not to move it until twelve seconds later.
And other slightly less obvious things. Like how she wasn't judging the house, or asking questions. She didn't look nervous or scared, well a little nervous, but mostly curious. How she was staring at me staring at her- She was staring at me. Crap! Look non-creeperish. Non-creeperish, how would one achieve that? How long has she been staring at me? too long, look away.
I turned and fiddled with something on my desk that didn't need to be fiddled with and fought the heat rising to my cheeks.
"are you- um...is everything ok?" I jumped at her voice.
"uuuuh" damn my voice squeaking at a vital moment. "yep. Just checking a few things before we start." she brushed her hair back. I smiled crookedly; it was kinda cute. Oh no no no, I can't think that about a doll! Well doll-to-be.
"alrighty then" I clapped my hands and rubbed them, trying to achieve an assuring smile rather then sadistic. "if you would kindly sit down and we'll get going miss...?"
"oh, um A-Amy" she held out a hand. I just blanked. Not doing anything but wearing a mask of surprise. No one, with the exception of someone with the intent to hurt me, had attempted to touch me. Ever. I just wasn't good at social situations.
At the small flash of hurt in her eyes I imeadiatly felt guilty and rushed to grab her hand, giving it a firm shake.
"sorry it's kind of been an off day for me."
"that's alright. So I just sit?"
"yup, sit back relax and enjoy the show" I gave an awkward chuckle as she slipped into the imprint chair.
She inhaled deeply and met my eyes.
"will it hurt?" I shook my head and patted her hand "not much." and with that i flicked the switches and watched the chair recline as a violet blue light illuminated her face. Her back arched and a small gasp escaped her lips. Maybe it did hurt, no one would know because, well, obviously they forgot so it would be pointless to ask. I just told them it would pinch just incase it did hurt. The chair moved back into a sitting position and she looked over at me, her chocolate eyes were empty.
"did I fall asleep?" a vein of confusion lied in her monotone question. A question that I heard ten times or more a day in the same tone.
"for a little while."
"oh. Shall I go now?" I nodded "if you like." and then turned away. Not one person expecting me to do anything but routine. The same thing over and over. But this time, I would differ. I would tamper. I would give her a quirk, that she would keep even in doll state. A small, irrelevant thing. That no one would notice unless they were really looking.
It was selfish of me, but I wanted her to have a difference from the other dolls. Because none of them ever touched their hair, she would always brush it back.
I never would know how badly-if at all- that that one trait would endear her to me, or how it would effect the outcome of the doll once known as Amy, now whiskey, and countless people to come. I wouldn't let any harm come to her though, because she was different. I would make her the best. Because she was. That delusion that she was different then the others would most likely send me down a very dark steep path.
And with that firmly in mind, I set to work.