The line of Connor's mouth tightens sharply, but he doesn't flinch as the deviant wrenches its weapon out through his joint. Certainly, he won't react aloud. The raw, cold pulsing of—sensation is no more its concern than the warning messages that supplant it. Thirium levels: 68%. Contact Cyberlife for immediate replacement.
Connor closes his eyes. Opens them. The flicker of his LED has slowed, but it still burns a bright and ugly red. He's still... deactivating. That wasn't the part he'd wanted to get right. All the same, as the deviant packs snow and reaches for a cloth, he finds himself almost viciously glad for the inconvenience.
"Is there a point to this?"
He focuses on his vocal modulator, drawling the words out in a soft, unhurried tone. It takes a little effort; the trickle of fluid in one lung is prompting an irrational urge to cough.
"CyberLife will send a new Connor." If they haven't already. Three weeks, when his own release had taken all of a single day.
"Whatever time you think you've bought yourself won't last."
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Connor closes his eyes. Opens them. The flicker of his LED has slowed, but it still burns a bright and ugly red. He's still... deactivating. That wasn't the part he'd wanted to get right. All the same, as the deviant packs snow and reaches for a cloth, he finds himself almost viciously glad for the inconvenience.
"Is there a point to this?"
He focuses on his vocal modulator, drawling the words out in a soft, unhurried tone. It takes a little effort; the trickle of fluid in one lung is prompting an irrational urge to cough.
"CyberLife will send a new Connor." If they haven't already. Three weeks, when his own release had taken all of a single day.
"Whatever time you think you've bought yourself won't last."