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Gilde raised her hand to block the sun from her face, though it wouldn't affect her sight. She heard the joints click in her fingers and elbow.

"A living doll... boy, I feel pretty unlucky this life." Gilde sighed. Footsteps were heard from far off, and were getting louder as the seconds passed. "Boy oh boy am I going to have a wonderful conversation."

"Excuse me," a young man came into view; his hair was blonde, with brown streaks. His eyes were very obviously blue, and he had a very clear complexion. He had a very subtle British accent, and he dressed so proper, in a black vest, white button-down shirt and dress pants. He even wore dress shoes! Nothing about him was casual, despite his terribly uncombed hair. "This might be rude, but your appearance is intriguing. Might I ask you if I can hold your hand?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot let you touch me; I am sick, and I would just hate it if I spread my germs to you." Gilde said, lying through her teeth. "What would his reaction be if he found out I was a doll? How interesting."

"Oh, it is fine, I just want to see the fine material you are made of up close. And I doubt a doll can spread germs, let alone contain those sorts of bacteria." he chuckled and held out his hand.

"How did--"

"My name is Frederic Blanc. I am a fan of your father's work." Frederic said. Gilde took his hand and he shook it gently. "Though, I must say, as the never before seen Golden Model, you are flawed. I want to improve you, Golden Model. I am an apprentice marionette maker."

"You sure talk a lot, Mr. Blanc. Your name reminds me of my sister." Gilde ignored the 'flawed' part of his statement, and pulled her arm back. "How did you know what I was and who created me?"

"I have the eyes of an expert and I know my history." He chuckled again, but it seemed darker than the first. He kind of scared Gilde, but she could trust him, as far as her feelings could tell her. "Anyways, I would love to perfect you."

"I'd love to hear your reasons, but I want to see your shop first; if you have no shop, or if it's unprofessional looking, I won't let you touch me with your tools." Gilde said, her voice growing sharp.

"Ah, we will see, my dear." he took Gilde's hand again. For once, after so many centuries, Gilde's hand began growing warm with this man's touch. Gilde stared at their hands and smiled in her mind.

"Oh, what fun..."