[ Oh, so it's going to be like that. Then Tech Boy's forced to endure K staring up at him with a dejected expression that could put kicked puppies to shame, even more sad than his usual resting sadface. Can androids cry? Tech Boy may find out for being so cruel.

But K keeps his hands to himself now, eventually leaning forward to work more on the trio of frogs, shades of genuine sadness slipping into his expression at Tech Boy's suggestion. He seems to withdraw into himself by degrees; his thin shoulders are unconsciously drawn inward, making him appear even smaller. ]

I think maybe only she can name me. I haven't been capable of choosing a name for myself.

[ Nothing is ever simple when it comes to choice for a replicant. Just like identities, preferences, personalities — they're not exactly meant to have any, and certainly aren't encouraged to, under normal circumstances. That K believes he has a favourite poem, likes reading and playing the piano, wants a relationship, and is even capable of the tentative, awkward teasing that he does is all unusual, as far as he knows. ]

But that's kind of you to think. [ That he's deserving. That he's special. You've always been kind to me. He has a sudden pang of real guilt. ] ...And I'm sorry I messed up your hair.