«Nothing of the sort. Besides, I’ll hardly need such bait once I have little Carlyle to finish things for me.»

«And God? The common God, I mean, are you making progress? You dropped such taunting hints.»

Another hush for kisses.

«God’s almost mine.»

«How long?»

A chuckle. «Patience is a virtue, Your Holiness. Think of it as a balance for today’s delicious vice. Your doll awaits.»

“Mmm.” Practiced hands gripped me under the arms and eased my torso forward until I flopped into an embrace. Some long hair caught in my lips as my face fell against bare skin, and I felt breasts against my chest. “Oops! Careful!” They switched to English to address me, laughing as they adjusted my head so my cheek could rest on their shoulder. “What a fragile thing you are, Sniper, and so light! I always imagined the real thing would be heavier than the dolls.”

«Careful you don’t strain its neck. Actually, better put this neck brace on it. I didn’t want the brace to spoil the effect when you opened the box, but there’s real danger of straining something, like with babies.»

“Well, we can’t have that, can we, Sniper? Can’t have you getting hurt. Come here.” My New Owner (what else can a doll call the one to whom it’s given?) held my head still for the Gift-giver to strap the brace in place. That helped, kept my head centered as my Owner tipped me forward into a cuddle. It was an intense embrace, no awkwardness, no holding back, the kind of hug two people can only achieve after long intimacy, but anyone can give in an instant to a stuffed bear. Amazing. “There, is that better? Now let’s get you out of your box and settled somewhere comfortable.”

«Let me help.» I felt the second person’s hands now, midsized enough to belong to either sex, but fierce as clamps. «On three, ready? One, two, three!»

The two of them carried me a short way, then laid me on soft carpet with my head and shoulders propped against a cushion.

“There.” My Owner laid my hands neatly at my sides. “Much better. Now, let’s get this packaging off so we can see your pretty eyes.”

They picked at the packing strip which protects the doll eyes during shipping, splitting the seal with fingernails which (almost) succeeded in not scratching my skin. Even common lamplight seared after such darkness, and I closed my eyes at once, flinching as much as I had power to flinch.

“Oh!” my Owner cried. “Did the bright light hurt you? Here.” They leaned close enough to veil me with shadow, and restored complete darkness to my left eye with a soft kiss on the eyelid. “Let me make it better.” The kiss moved, one eye, then the other, then down my cheek. “There, that’s better. Now open your eyes. It’s okay.”

Squinting at first, I saw a clean white half mask covering the upper half of a light face, with a wash of black hair behind it, leaking over a bare body which was probably not as beautiful as I remember, but I’m about as objective here as Mycroft is about Thisbe. The room behind my Owner was a collage of me: posters, portraits, some quite rare, all different costumes, naughty, nice, formal, skimpy, all five sports, all seven Hives, and dominated by the 2442 limited-edition of me slumped shirtless in a chair with puppet joints drawn on my skin and the strings of a marionette holding me half-upright. I’ve always liked people who like that one.