"It'll just be easier if I take this off. Don't worry, I'll hide my shame from your no-doubt delicate past-person sensibilities," says Cayde, as if this isn't more weird and uncomfortable on his end. Does a robot have shame to hide? Apparently.

He chatters as he sets the coveralls aside on the table and pulls off the undershirt too (might as well deal with what's wrong with that part of him too.) "So, nail something down for me: What century are you from?"

After Peter answers he sits down, draping the sheet liberally for the betterment of their attempt to make this not weird.

"Alright, I'm decent."