"Oops, that's not the way I wanted it!" the robotlet shook his head, then shrugged shortly after. "It doesn't look so bad, actually. And that monster can look for his mace for a while! In the meantime, dear sister, I'd like to have some oil tea."
His sister led him inside and sat him down at the table. As they sipped their tea, the four-headed dragodroid arrived with great fuss. His golden armour shone brightly even in the pale sunlight.
"Who dares to joke with my mace? It almost tore one of my heads off, I could barely dodge it. And it exploded my favourite moon like a chubby balloon."
"Forgive us, dear husband," said the sister, "but my younger brother has just arrived to visit me, and he didn't know it was your mace. He thought it was some space junk brought here by the solar wind, so he threw it at Mars to keep the place clean. Unfortunately, he missed the target, because, as he put it, he's not used to handling such light child-sized maces."