[He eventually puts the knife back in the holster hanging from his hip a moment later. Kept close, not only for self-defense purposes — memory and experiences associated with an item, much like the quarter resting idly in a pocket, is not something Connor is willing to treat recklessly.]

I’d say that the both of us have been through worse together, more than once.

[The storm on Struxta, the shadow creatures on Akvos. An angry plant seems almost mundane in comparison, if he’s to compare the apparent risks associated with each situation.

Still, the android notices Arenvald reaching for the back of his neck, brow knitting slightly.]

Itching? You might’ve gotten a small amount of pollen on you. Would you like to turn around and let me see?