[connor is convinced there’s something he missed—something he won’t dare admit is actual emotion causing the sensation of distress and a dull ache beneath his chestplates. he watches his artificial skin receding where it’s connected to 9s at their hands, and somehow the reminder that he’s not as advanced makes it hurt that much more.

he’s staring down at the table, mouth purses and eyes dull as he quietly asks in lieu of an answer:]

You can—watch the footage. Do you think it’s because I wasn’t advanced enough? Would you or another of your kind have been able to spare him?

[as if somehow the unpredictability and suddenness of freak accidents was somehow preventable among humans.]