[Heels dig into dirt as they come to a stop. Connor thinks that if he were a different sort of an android — made for strength instead of analytical fervor — he could just sweep the man off of his feet and carry him without issue.
Still an option, but a difficult one. Especially if Hank puts up an admittedly lousy fight, but resistance is resistance, and his friend doesn’t need to exert that kind of effort right now. And Connor also doesn’t know how gracefully he could manage it.
He frowns, sets his jaw, tries for plain explanation again:]
We’re not in hell. We’re in the Temple. You’re sick — not drowning, not dying — just sick. You need someone to tend to you and to bring you back to bed to rest. Do you understand?
no subject
Still an option, but a difficult one. Especially if Hank puts up an admittedly lousy fight, but resistance is resistance, and his friend doesn’t need to exert that kind of effort right now. And Connor also doesn’t know how gracefully he could manage it.
He frowns, sets his jaw, tries for plain explanation again:]
We’re not in hell. We’re in the Temple. You’re sick — not drowning, not dying — just sick. You need someone to tend to you and to bring you back to bed to rest. Do you understand?