“Here, boy!” She called, and Ponto bounded out of the fog into the light of the gaslamp, pressing up against her. She rubbed the manifolds on the back of its head, and it quivered in pleasure.
“You know, Molly old dear,” said Philip around the cigar. “I don’t reckon that one is a boy. Just a feeling.”
Molly thought for a moment, and realized Philip was probably right. She tore a strip off the pram’s hood and bent to the machine. When she straightened up, with a pleased expression on her face, the leather and brass head of her faithful companion sported a pink ribbon with a bow on top. It bounded happily away.
All done with Ponto the Necrotic Machine!
Initially I aimed for some sort of aged brass/copper thingy, but Iunno… At least his ribbon’s there!