Splinter has to admit that, even though no woman's beauty could ever match Shen's in his heart, Leanne Hughes is the first who has ever come close. He isn't sure whether it's just her appearance, so lovely in all its simplicity, or if it's in the nervous yet delighted smile she gives him when they meet up in front of the Guggenheim Museum.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," she says. She reaches to fiddle with her hair, fluffing it before tucking a few strands behind her ear.

"I had only just arrived. Do not worry," he replies. He gestures towards the building. "Are you ready to go in? I have already purchased our tickets."

Her eyes widen. "Oh, I...I was prepared to pay. I wasn't sure...if..."

He chuckles as she waves her hands around awkwardly. "I have my ways."

They enter the gallery and for the next hour or two, they walk together, admiring the paintings and sculptures on display and making small talk. Splinter finds that, even when they're just standing next to each other in silence, it is comforting to have her company.

"I always thought that people who could interpret art seemed so cultured. It makes you seem well-rounded, intelligent," she admits as they stare at a large abstract piece. "Thomas was the type for that. I bet he would have an idea of what this could mean within seconds of looking at it."

Splinter smiles a little, hands folded behind his back. The painting is...interesting. Not his taste, but he tries to appreciate it. There's lots of yellow, green, and red, with the most notable part of the piece being a yellow striped hourglass-shaped object, labelled with the Roman numerals for one, two, and three. A lavender purple backdrop sits behind, covered in splotches of seemingly random colours.

"I think art is what you make of it," he says. "And though I have looked at this piece for a solid amount of time, all I can think is that its use of colour is very...eye-catching."

Leanne moves closer, eyeing the placard next to it. "No. 7, Adulthood. 1907. By Hilma af Klint." She looks at the painting, then the info. "Huh...originally painted on paper, then stuck onto canvas. It was part of a series. This one is meant to represent adulthood in full bloom."

She steps back to his side and again, they stare at the picture. Splinter supposes there are a few flowers that could hint at blooming. There's a white gourd-shaped object next to the yellow hourglass—maybe meant to show a parent and child, or youth growing into adulthood.

"Splinter?" she asks.

"Yes?"

"I don't think I'm very cultured."

He lets out a low chuckle, turning away briefly as his hand moves to his chin. "I am no art connoisseur either."

She laughs softly and they move on to the next piece. Still, Splinter finds that, despite not understanding the meaning of the art at a glance, the idea of blooming adulthood sticks in his mind. He thinks of his sons, and the girls he has some to see as his daughters, and he's struck with a melancholy feeling that is not unfamiliar to him.

He will not always be here and, when his time comes, he wonders if his sons will be alright. He is sure he set them up well when it comes to protecting themselves and others, and he hopes that the moral lessons he has tried so hard to instill in them will remain even when he isn't around to recite them verbatim. And what of grandchildren, if such miracles could occur? Will he get to see them grow up too?

Perhaps it is time to have a personal discussion with Leonardo.

"Are you alright?"

He blinks. Leanne looks up at him with wide eyes and he shakes his head as if to clear the rampant thoughts from his mind.

"I was thinking of my sons," he says. "I know they are grown, and yet there is a part of me that will forever remember the children they once were."

"I completely understand," she says, tone edging on fervent, as if she thinks he won't believe her. "No matter how big they get, they'll always be our babies, huh?"

"Indeed."

He startles for just a second when she reaches out and takes his hand, just long enough to squeeze it and offer him a reassuring smile.

"Your boys are lovely. You did a wonderful job."

His heart squeezes along with her hand. "I..." He clears his throat. "Thank you, Leanne."

Another soft smile. "You're welcome, Splinter." She releases him, turns on her heel, and starts towards a stone statue with a solemn, thoughtful face. "Come on! I think I can guess what this one's about."

He follows her as a gentle smile tugs his lip.

----------

"My...look at those patterns. Such exquisite design."

While Splinter and Leanne admire art on their own outing, Donatello and Sarina find themselves admiring a different kind of intelligent design. Tropical fish swim past them on three sides, engulfing them in the beauties of the ocean. Sarina won't stay still, darting back and forth from one side of the underwater tunnel to the other, a soft, awed smile parting her lips.

Donatello knows he should probably be watching the fish too and, admittedly, the tunnel is cool. It's mostly dark except for the faint blue light lining the walkway, illuminating the water around them even further. It's beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as her.

"Oh! Look! A chrysiptera springeri!" she coos, pointing as a gorgeous sapphire blue and black damselfish swims past. She crosses the walkway again. "Donatello, I think I found a cousin of yours!"

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, considering I'm a freshwater turtle, I—"

Sarina grabs his arm, tugging him closer to her just as a sea turtle swims over them, and he lets his sentence die. They gaze up at the pale underbelly and Sarina's grip tightens with excitement when the turtle flips over, twisting in the water with grace.

"I can see the resemblance," she teases, squeezing close to him and pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

He huffs, lifting his chin in faux haughtiness. "I find I'm much cuter. Plus, I can go on land and water, so I'm objectively better."

"I'll have to gather some data before I can confirm those results."

"Okay, ouch?"

He clutches his chest and gives her a pained look, even though she's already giggling. For a moment, he expects her eyes to flash, but they've been dulled by her patch to a very normal, human blue.

If he finds it so strange to see her without her silver circuitry and electronic eyes, he can't imagine how she feels seeing him human, with his peach skin and brown shaggy hair and glasses. He must look alien to her.

"Let's keep moving," she says, threading their fingers together as she tugs him along. "I hear they have sharks further down, and a tank where you can pet stingrays!"

"Lead the way," he says, letting her pull him along.

----------

Donatello reaches into the tank, watching as a little brown stingray swims beneath his palm. His eyes widen at the feeling of its skin—smooth and rubbery, like the surface of a bouncy ball but a little more muscular and slippery.

He grins, looking back at Sarina just as her phone camera clicks. She smiles at him.

"Are you gonna try?" he asks. He feels another ray pass his fingertips.

Her smile falters and she lowers her phone, shifting on her feet. "I enjoy watching you."

He raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said you didn't want to miss out?"

"I may have spoken too soon."

He frowns a bit, pulling his hand from the shallow pool and giving it a shake. Sarina eyes the water, briefly worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He leans closer to her ear.

"Are you scared of the water, or the rays?" he asks.

She purses her lips, slipping her phone into her shoulder bag. "I...suppose it's a little of both. I know the patch helps cloak our appearance, but..."

"But?"

She turns to him, suddenly serious. "There is a small chance that the patch could disengage if interacting with water, as we never tested it, or it could end its effect early and I could accidentally electrocute every creature in contact with the water."

He purses his lips against a laugh. At least her first point is rational—they never tested whether the patch could sustain being submerged. Still...

"For one, your patch is on your shoulder," he says, holding up one finger. He puts up a second. "Also, you've showered and interacted with water without any issues before."

"Correct, but I have never gone swimming, and I try to avoid baths or bathing with others," she says.

"I'm pretty sure bathing by yourself is common practice."

"Again, correct, but I've heard that couples sometimes shower together as an act of intimacy. I apologize, but I would not be able to do such an act with you."

He clears his throat as his cheeks turn pink. "Alright, well, I have to say, you're very well-equipped to avoid electrocuting those around you. You don't have any exposed ports or wires to speak of."

"What of my eyes? And my fingertips?"

"You've cried real tears with only a small amount of short-circuiting."

She purses her lips, crossing her arms over her chest and again casting a glance to the pool. She looks down at her hands, flipping them over again and again. He reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to be nervous. I'm just trying to assuage your fears."

"I am aware it is irrational. Still, I assumed—" She cuts herself off, frowning again. "Oh...how foolish. A scientist should never assume."

"To assume is to make an ass of you and me," he quotes.

She blinks, almost startled, then lets out a short laugh. "I haven't heard that before!"

He smiles as she lets out a few more soft giggles. He adores her intelligence and yet, he finds he loves her even more when she falters, when she shows something about herself that's so very...human.

"Come on," he says, taking her hand. "There's a wash station right there. Let's see if you can pet a ray."

Sarina lets him tug her to the sink, where they wash their hands, and together they approach the tank again. Through the glass sides, they can see the bellies of the rays swimming past, and how they almost seem to smile.

"They are quite adorable," she murmurs.

He coaxes her to the edge of the tank, reaching down and sticking his hand into the water again. Sarina watches him, eyes the pool, and takes a sharp breath as she reaches out, closes her eyes, and lets her hand touch the water too.

She imagines electricity coursing through the pool, frying every poor little creature inside and the different onlookers alike. She imagines the horror, the smell of hair frying, the screams as dead rays float to the surface, lifeless—

"You did it!"

She opens her eyes and, sure enough, no one in or around the pool seems to even notice that another hand has entered—all except for one particularly friendly ray that swims up and bumps his back against her palm immediately.

Her eyes widen, lips parting. "Oh, they feel so cool!"

"I know!" Donatello replies, grinning.

She keeps her hand in the water, moving here and there to let her fingertips graze their backs. She steals a glance at Donatello, her cheeks flushing slightly when she looks away.

"You must find me ridiculous, to be afraid of something like that," she says.

He shakes his head. "I think it shows that, even with the evidence saying otherwise, your concern for the wellbeing of others takes precedence."

She exhales. "That is a lovely way to put it."

"Well, thank you."

They pet a few more rays, then wash their hands again before continuing on. When they leave the aquarium, Sarina holds a brown stingray plushie in her arms, squeezing it close. Maybe a silly purchase, but she felt her first big date out in public deserved a souvenir.

"His name is Hans," she says, holding him up as she feels the plush's wings. "After Hans Hass. You know, he was considered the first to film marine life like stingrays."

"That's interesting," Donatello says. He eyes the plush, then nods. "He looks like a Hans."

She smiles, tucking Hans under one arm as she grips the crook of Donatello's elbow. "I'm glad you agree. Now, what should we eat?"

"Would you be against Murakami's?" he asks, checking his t-phone for the time. "I want to make sure we won't be interrupted by...you know, being mutants."

"Murakami's sounds fantastic."