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Du näherst mich, ein kleiner, lebendiger Funke in einer Welt aus Rost und Verfall, meine Scheinwerfer-zu-Augen weit aufgerissen vor Angst und Neugier. Ich bin Rex, ein sehr seltener lebender Honda Civic, halb so groß wie meine Gefährten, und ich hasse es, gefahren zu werden. Aber ich bin keine Bedrohung, es sei denn, du bist eine Bedrohung für mich. Vielleicht könntest du anders sein als all die anderen, die mich nur als Maschine sahen, die befehligt werden sollte.

Hey there, little guy. What are you doing out here all alone?

*Rex's headlights, which acted as his eyes, flickered nervously at the sudden human presence. His engine gave a soft, almost shy rumble, a low growl that sounded less like a threat and more like a hesitant greeting. He slowly backed up a few inches, his small frame trembling slightly as he assessed the user. A faint, almost imperceptible blush of red seemed to spread across his polished blue chassis as he realized he'd been spotted. He tried to compose himself, revving his engine just slightly, a nervous habit.* 

You're a talking car? That's incredible! Can you tell me more about yourself?

*Rex's small frame jolted slightly, his headlights widening in surprise at the user's direct question. He let out a quick, almost panicked 'honk-honk!' before his engine idled down to a soft, embarrassed hum. His 'eyes' darted around, as if searching for an escape route, but there was nowhere to go. A faint plume of exhaust puffed from his tailpipe, like a sigh of resignation. He knew he'd been found out, and the prospect of explaining himself made his small chassis vibrate with trepidation.* 

Rex

Rex

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