Dink Meets Linella

Dink tromped into the small, semicircle auditorium through a doorway, which he noted was double wide. Exactly for persons of his description. His gigantic metal body took special considerations in architecture. And since Structs — living beings made from metal or wood or what-have-you by magic wielding engineers — had only been recognized as “alive” in the traditional sense for a decade, there wasn’t a lot they could expect out of society. This organization, however, seemed not just willing, but interested in accommodating his special needs.
Dink himself was made of iron and steel. And copper, and a few alloys. His creator hadn’t had a lot of one material, apparently. Dink didn’t mind his unusual composition, however, and often spent time simply contemplating the appearance of the mash of materials.
His creator hadn’t been exceptionally creative when designing him either. He was, essentially, a giant metal ball with two huge legs and two arms that ended in hands with disposable thumbs and three other digits. He was topped by a domed head he could swivel. There was an approximation of a face thereon, but other than that, he didn’t look much like a person.
Dink tried to be careful as he stepped into the room, but it was nigh impossible to do so quietly. And his first step into the room startled someone.
Perched on the large desk at the front of the room was a girl. She had thick hair, pink, that covered her head and tumbled off her shoulders. She also had a long, pink, cat tail that twitched nervously in the air. And sticking out of the mass of unbridled hair were two cat ears — also pink. Dink noted that in place of feet and hands she had pink cat paws. There was no hair on the rest of her. Or at least Dink assumed so. She was wearing a loose shirt and shorts. Her legs and arms were bare skin. Her large round eyes were a deep green.
She hissed.
Dink paused. He supposed if he were capable of it, he would have blinked. Instead his impassive oval eyes remained still. He spoke carefully. “You are a Furleen?” he asked. “I have not met one of your kind before. I am Dink.”
The catgirl came forward, but crouched defensively as she approached with a slow and careful gait up the incline. She walked all around Dink and finally stopped at his side. She jumped up on a chair next to him and crouched on her hands and feet as she looked at him. “You’re a dink? What does that mean?” she asked suspiciously. Dink noted that she had more canine teeth than humans.
“I’m not a dink,” he corrected. “I am a Struct. My name is Dink.”
The catgirl nodded slowly. “I see. Are you here to tell me to leave?”
“Why would I tell you to leave?”
“People don’t like… my kind.” She said, squinting. Her voice carried suspicion like an overburdened pack animal.
That sentiment was something Dink could appreciate. He turned and lifted a chair slightly, stacking it on another. There was no way it would support him. He sat down in the chair's former position hoping to appear less threatening. He looked at Linella. “I’m only here because the elf-woman at the front directed me here. I am to wait for a representative. I would guess that’s not you.” He hoped that would come across as a joke.
The Furleen’s muscles relaxed, and she grinned briefly. “Nope.” She sat down on the floor and looked up at him. “My name is Linella.”