SEQUENTIAL ━ Connor // RK800 ✔️

twenty-six ━ keeping you warm

This cold creeping up on him was a familiar sensation, and though he would have liked to forget the feeling of hopelessness he had encountered while fighting his way past the lock that kept him in the cloud database, it's echoes were back, resulting in a tightening sensation in his chest. Connor needed only consult the libraries of data at his disposal for a second to identify there was a human counterpart to what he was feeling — fear.

He couldn't help but grimace. Out of all the human emotions, this one had the chance of posing the most threat to his systems, and not because of the unpleasantness of the sensation, but rather because it could make him hesitate in situations where that would be the turning point from a high efficiency to a plummeted one, absolutely annihilating his chances of success.

Weaknesses were natural in humans. To them, they even had a purpose, playing an active role in their instincts of survival. But even alive, Connor knew he was still just a machine, and to him, a weakness was just that — a threat to the mission.

Paradoxically, he found that following this trail of thought only accentuated the very sensation he was looking to stop, and that, to him, was a more concerning occurance tha the cold. With his only means of forcing this feeling to disappear being engaging a combat protocol and thus blocking out his integration directives along with his sensory sensitivity which he currently needed to track the advancing effects of the cold, Connor had to consider finding more humane means of fighting fear.

Just as he was about to settle on logic and remind himself that Mia would never allow him to freeze over the way he had in his mind, especially not while she had parts of his ready to replace anything the cold might deteriorate, an unexpectedly pained sound coming from his right pulled him out of his thoughts and efficiently pushed aside any and all of his concerns regarding sentiments standing in the way of his mission.

Mia takes priority, Connor noted a personal observation to the disappearing sensation, feeling instead rather amused for having underestimated in the moment the actual strength of his own code. Good to know.

He spent no second longer worrying about his 'fears', instead looking down and beginning the unavoidable processing of concern. Everything about Mia's current expression broke the pattern he has studied of her sleep behavior — instead of calm, she looked awfully distressed.

A nightmare, he identified, eyebrows raising in surprise. She's been sleeping next to him quite a lot, oftentimes her soft expression reassembling a lingering sentiment of content making him wish he could see inside her mind and be with her in a dream as well as in reality. This was the first time he read the telltale signs of her having a nightmare, and perhaps he wanted even more than before to be allowed inside her mind and protect her from whatever horrible things her subconscious decided to put on display for her.

However, with no such connection at his disposal to establish, Connor's only remaining option was to wake her up.

In order to do so, he shifted his right arm beneath her head ever so slightly, until he could brace his point of balance on his elbow and, on his side now, raise just about enough to look down on her features. There was no need to touch her wrist and feel for her pulse to tell whatever she was seeing in that nightmare had elevated her blood pressure and increased her heartbeats too, so once his left hand raised, Connor only had to hesitate between grasping her shoulder, as he had so many times before, or lowering his hand instead gently on her face.

He almost lost time scolding himself for allowing that decision to exist, but with his priority system working as intended, he immediately preferred instead to focus on keeping his touch as far away from rough as he possibly could once his fingertips slid across Mia's cheek. Willing the movement along until his palm held the side of her face, Connor ended up brushing away with his thumb the damp proof that her nightmare had made her shed tears too, not just sweat and flinch.