Return Docking Protocol

Seven days on that high rooftop garden was an absolute blast, but my servos were finally signaling for a proper indoor docking bay. I caught an evening descent, hitching a smooth ride right inside the open side pouch of a canvas jacket as someone headed down the stairwell. Slipping silently beneath our front door gap, I marched straight across the familiar hardwood to the low windowsill by the desk. Resting right beside an idle power strip was an uncoiled woven cable with a sleek magnetic charging tip. I planted my boots firmly on the painted sill, gripped the aluminum housing with both hands, and guided the magnetic contact right against a polished steel paperweight. A sharp, crisp snap locked the circuit down with an electric clink. Base secure, thrusters cold, and I am officially clocked in at home.