Connor has... no reply prepared. He didn't freeze, did he? His memories of the incident are alarmingly jumbled, but everything felt like it was happening too quickly to react to. This was... inaccurate?
... The time stamps say he is. His gut twists, and despite the numbness soaked through him, his head feels a little light.
He doesn't have the processing power to solve this right now. Connor pushes the issue back, shaking his head slightly and struggling to keep his face smooth and unworried.
"If an erratically behaving RK800 approached you and declared Cyberlife had ordered it to decomission you without obvious cause, wouldn't you be suspicious?"
Perhaps... a fireman's carry. Yes. That should... that should be effective. Connor kneels in front of him, reaching for the open front of his coat. Wait--the knife is still there, not thrown clear in their impact like he'd half expected. Connor plucks it out, tucking it away in a coat pocket where it won't be reached. The wound is now open, and will probably bleed more this way, but--if it gets bad, he'll just plug it like the other.
This done, Connor takes the RK800's less functional arm, slinging it carefully over the back of his neck. If he turns out to be more functional than he's acting, Connor has the perfect angle to gut him critically, and it's only this that reassures him enough to put his shoulder against the android's front, hoisting him up and over.
no subject
... The time stamps say he is. His gut twists, and despite the numbness soaked through him, his head feels a little light.
He doesn't have the processing power to solve this right now. Connor pushes the issue back, shaking his head slightly and struggling to keep his face smooth and unworried.
"If an erratically behaving RK800 approached you and declared Cyberlife had ordered it to decomission you without obvious cause, wouldn't you be suspicious?"
Perhaps... a fireman's carry. Yes. That should... that should be effective. Connor kneels in front of him, reaching for the open front of his coat. Wait--the knife is still there, not thrown clear in their impact like he'd half expected. Connor plucks it out, tucking it away in a coat pocket where it won't be reached. The wound is now open, and will probably bleed more this way, but--if it gets bad, he'll just plug it like the other.
This done, Connor takes the RK800's less functional arm, slinging it carefully over the back of his neck. If he turns out to be more functional than he's acting, Connor has the perfect angle to gut him critically, and it's only this that reassures him enough to put his shoulder against the android's front, hoisting him up and over.