[ Fenris stiffens when he's grabbed. His circuitry flashes, and he winces, mostly from the pain of controlling his own instincts. He wants to shove Jack down, brace his arm against the other man's throat--neutralize the threat. That's his unconscious response, violent and primal. Swallowing it down hurts. But he manages to keep still until Jack lets him go. He keeps his expression bland. Perhaps mildly, reasonably curious.
He murmurs. ]
What doesn't the Company own?
[ It owns him, to be sure. Does it own Jack, too? He wonders. He wonders about a lot of things, looking at Jack's scarred face. Jack might be delirious enough to tell him. He might be unstable enough to attack him for it, too. Fenris is not afraid, but he doesn't want to deal with the mess.
He shakes his head. He's done all he can, he thinks. ]
no subject
He murmurs. ]
What doesn't the Company own?
[ It owns him, to be sure. Does it own Jack, too? He wonders. He wonders about a lot of things, looking at Jack's scarred face. Jack might be delirious enough to tell him. He might be unstable enough to attack him for it, too. Fenris is not afraid, but he doesn't want to deal with the mess.
He shakes his head. He's done all he can, he thinks. ]
But, in any case, if you are comfortable ...
[ He's ready to go. ]