[ Once he's down, he pauses long enough to give Tech Boy a pointed look. ] I don't want you to leave and you're never in the way. [ He's quick to say, hoping his prior words won't be misinterpreted as some kind of dismissal. The company is always welcome, even if they'll have to take a rain check on a few of the things they usually get up to together.

There's a nebulous, nagging worry of what will happen if this change is of a more permanent nature than the ones he's previously experienced, and that's weighing on his mind as well. Enough that Tech Boy's remark about his making a cute kid takes a couple seconds to fully register, and then his eyes widen in surprised realisation. ]

I look like me. [ Like an actual child version of himself. ]

I have memories of being a child— that's not me. They're just implants, like most my memories. [ And on that cheerful thought, he pulls out a couple knives from a drawer that's thankfully within his reach, gets the cutting board, and drags the kitchen chair over to the counter where the ingredients are all laid out. Climbing up, he rinses some of the vegetables in the sink. ]

You make time for me. It hasn't gone unnoticed or unappreciated. [ He adds, returning to the prior topic of conversation. After preparing the peppers (cutting off the ends, removing the seeds and ribs, laying them flat) with only some difficulty due to his smaller hands now, he looks back to Tech Boy. ] And I think you need a real meal. Can you cut these into strips without cutting yourself?

[ He did say he can follow instructions, and that's probably the easiest place to start. ]