[He’s right, Connor probably would’ve bolted away, at least briefly, in search of an android that shouldn’t be here; but the fact of the matter is that Arenvald keeps him pinned, which forces him to parse what he’s being told, eyes snapping back up to his friend with renewed (if not still jarred) focus. He keeps himself propped up on elbows, a strand of hair gone wild and strewn across is forehead.

He would’ve dismissed it as impossible, the idea that he could spontaneously see things. Hallucinate, for the lack of a better word. But his experience in the Circle wold inform him otherwise, and as far as this android is concerned, it’s more than likely that what Arenvald is telling him is true, as opposed to probability skewing the other way.

It still seems to put him ill at ease.]

I perceived it as real — Daniel, the rooftop, everything. Even Detroit’s night sky…

[He trails off.]

I suppose… that explains why he didn’t fall off the rooftop. The reasons for my miscalculations— also, I’m sorry, but can you please get up?