"I've got several questions," Susan admits, straightening up and tucking the stick safely away. (Since she hasn't got decent pockets with this outfit, this does mean she puts it between her breasts.) "First: machines are built; they haven't got young. Have they? Or might this change in the future...?" A faint frown crosses her face at the thought. "Second: how might a human serve as a role model to a machine creature? What must it learn beyond speech?" She gives Lancelot rather an arch look. "Ought a lonely machine... infant?... be exposed to the primal scene?" It's likely Crowley, who has queer notions of the world, mightn't think of this risk. It's even likelier that Crowley doesn't realize Lancelot and Susan live together, so even if he did concern himself with that risk, he mightn't think it relevant. "Third: Might there be others here who better meet a small machine's needs?"

She twists, and rests her hand on Lancelot's bicep. Then she gives it a squeeze, because it's a lovely bicep and she likes touching it. "I'm not asking you to skive off your responsibilities, you know," she says. "If you wish to serve as this machine's... role model... surely we can sort out a way for it to happen." But the thing does unsettle her.