The makeshift bed was certainly more than he'd been allowed for himself in...possibly ever. Certainly as far back as his memories extended. The closest he could ever remembering coming was the operating table, and they were always in a haste to make sure he spent as little time there as possible. The longer he spent getting repaired, the less time he could spend improving his skills. He even found himself spending a moment just rubbing the material of the blankets through his fingers, almost wonderingly. The material was threadbare and rough, to be certain, but it was warm. It was something.
It seemed...strange, out of place, to expend this much effort on a weapon that was not only broken and wounded, but must have disobeyed or otherwise displeased their handlers. The signs of maltreatment and punishment, above and beyond the surgery, were evident to his eyes from long practice observing and experiencing. The bed certainly couldn't be for his sake - his only purpose here was to observe, or so they told him. His comfort in doing so was irrelevant, especially since he was unharmed.
Still, the man was...glad, of this allowance, especially as he sat beside the man with the metal arm and watched him slowly settle. He sat beside his newfound companion, unconsciously positioning himself between the other weapon and the cameras, the better to allow the wounded man to keep his back safely to the wall. He knew the other weapon would probably prefer that - he certainly would.
In an absentminded gesture, some lingering trace of muscle memory, he reached out to run his fingers gently through the other man's matted hair. He paused only briefly at the question, strange though it was.
The right answer, of course, was "no". He did not require sleep. He was permitted sleep. The ice was not the same thing. And yet, speaking like a man creeping over thin ice, he found himself saying. "I...only recently returned from a mission myself. It would probably be...best, to save my energy now."
With barely a darted glance at the cameras, he moved to do just that, stretching out next to the other man on the bed that proved to have a fair amount of room, especially to two men trained to take up as little space as they had to. No one came to stop them, so he could only assume that this was allowed, and that was...good.
no subject
It seemed...strange, out of place, to expend this much effort on a weapon that was not only broken and wounded, but must have disobeyed or otherwise displeased their handlers. The signs of maltreatment and punishment, above and beyond the surgery, were evident to his eyes from long practice observing and experiencing. The bed certainly couldn't be for his sake - his only purpose here was to observe, or so they told him. His comfort in doing so was irrelevant, especially since he was unharmed.
Still, the man was...glad, of this allowance, especially as he sat beside the man with the metal arm and watched him slowly settle. He sat beside his newfound companion, unconsciously positioning himself between the other weapon and the cameras, the better to allow the wounded man to keep his back safely to the wall. He knew the other weapon would probably prefer that - he certainly would.
In an absentminded gesture, some lingering trace of muscle memory, he reached out to run his fingers gently through the other man's matted hair. He paused only briefly at the question, strange though it was.
The right answer, of course, was "no". He did not require sleep. He was permitted sleep. The ice was not the same thing. And yet, speaking like a man creeping over thin ice, he found himself saying. "I...only recently returned from a mission myself. It would probably be...best, to save my energy now."
With barely a darted glance at the cameras, he moved to do just that, stretching out next to the other man on the bed that proved to have a fair amount of room, especially to two men trained to take up as little space as they had to. No one came to stop them, so he could only assume that this was allowed, and that was...good.