[Arenvald’s seen a measure of this scene before; Connor’s approach, placating and appealing, tone purposefully made to win trust, to increase the probability of a mission success. The slow but promising crawl of percentages rising in his favor, informing each word, each step made closer. And after it was done, parameters met, a hollow-eyed android on his knees and shredded through with blue, the act had fallen off his features like a mask. A wordless turn, a silent stride, returning to CyberLife.

Now? Now there’s something different in his tone, something shaped like guilt etched in the curvatures of his eyes, the lines of his mouth. He moves forward with the same caution, towards that precarious lip of a rooftop, external sensors falsely registering the harried spray of pool water tossed up by invisible helicopter blades, but the hand at his side flexes in a nervous tic, the other raising to pacify.

Needless to say, he doesn’t register anything Arenvald is saying. His voice raises.]

I don’t want to do this again. You didn’t give me a choice last time, but we don’t have to make it a repeat; that little girl is innocent in all of this. Just put her down — this is between you and me.