[ Victor accepts the info packet without fanfare, and proceeds to read it. His eye blinks through the fine prints, the model descriptions, the footage (which his mind obligingly layers into a convenient watchable video, given the frames are nearly exact, save for the backgrounds). ]
[ He observes Murderbot pull someone from the mud. And, at the final memory, the blue light at the centre of his forehead turns a bright red, ]
You were owned,
[ He's frowning. He is... angry, he realises. Furious. It's so... strange to interpret that as a real feeling and not the sparks of neurons, in some mimicry. He is genuinely, truly angry. How could they do that to you? That was... something with purpose, something elegant, and now it's ruined because someone was simply careless. ]
no subject
[ He observes Murderbot pull someone from the mud. And, at the final memory, the blue light at the centre of his forehead turns a bright red, ]
You were owned,
[ He's frowning. He is... angry, he realises. Furious. It's so... strange to interpret that as a real feeling and not the sparks of neurons, in some mimicry. He is genuinely, truly angry. How could they do that to you? That was... something with purpose, something elegant, and now it's ruined because someone was simply careless. ]