The machine suddenly shot the Cyborg Dog a glare of contempt, optic turning online again and beaming uncomfortably into the back of that steel can it called a head. The rear ends of the movable plates on Nexus' head shot outwards, flaring like it was quite upset with the comment. However, it reckoned the Cyborg Dog would soon regret his comment. The machine doubted he, Garthar, would even match up physically or mentally, but a verbally scalding retort would serve him well.

	"Currently, we are in the midst of computation of theoretical designs and ship modifications to increase efficiency and power distribution. This requires a majority of our cores to operate seamless simulations in tandem. The core in operation of the legs has been re-purposed for its mistake. We are still at work while waiting for the meeting to commence, what do you provide?" It certified, obviously grated from the comment. It decided to hold its voice from further interaction. It did however have quite a quip about those metal limbs of Garthar's, that is for sure.

	The machine unclasped its hands, rotating all four wrist joints and splaying its fingers. Its hands clenched to fists, then relaxed and re-clasped. Rather than dim the light on its optic, it simply enhanced it upon Garthar's head as if it were trying to bore a hole through the steel. It would actually be noticeably warm to human flesh but unlikely to affect steel. The Cyborg Dog seemed to hold a grudge against AI. Whether that was from past experiences or general distaste, it would have to be complacent. If it weren't, Nexus could always hold him aloft with two arms and continue work with the remaining set. If he were to prove even mildly troublesome — or meddle with Qubit — the parts would fly.

[i][color=ed1c24]Open dossier folder, create sub-folder; "Garthar->Responses", create log. Extract audio snippet... Complete. Flag folder under watch-list for constant monitoring of change. Assign Core 64 continuous information sorting.[/color][/i]

	The machine turned its attention suddenly to Christian after he had finished speaking, optic dimming so it wouldn't blind him. It had something to say about being called 'Nex', but it had already said more than enough for the time being. Rather than chew straws, it decided to accept the gratification, front plates lifting outwards slightly while the back remained flat. This was the assumed man on drugs. However it was unlikely to be the case. His heart rate was average if not slightly above. Synapses were firing perfectly fine, pupils not dilated. Where did this spring of endless joy derive? It was an incredibly rare sight to see someone more than barely living anymore, further interaction with this man was absolutely necessary. Was it simply pure happiness, or was it a flimsy cover veiled across the darkest secret of depression? Only experimentation would reveal results.