X’s Diary, October 16th, AD 21XX:
“Robots can’t smell things. I’ve never cared about this missing sense, until I saw those long blonde flowing locks, twirling through the air, creating a perfect spiral with the distorted bend of his beam blade. I bet they smell like Maverick grease and martyrdom. Fuck I’m so turned on right now. Literally. I am on as opposed to off and functioning.”