He sat beside her, and put an arm over her, allowing her to nestle against his chest, which was typically warmer than his prosthetic limbs. "I think so, at least someone I cared about." He paused, uncertain, "He, cared about? It's confusing. I read the dossiers, service records, academic transcripts, employment files, hell, they even included interview footage, and security feeds from my, his, day to day. So would I know her, to see her? Yes, I think I would. People tell me I, he? Loved her, but would I feel that if I were to see her? Hell, I don't even know if she's alive ..."
As he looked towards Rowe he felt something, a twinge of regret, guilt perhaps. He wasn't sure if it was because he was talking about Iris to a woman he cared for, or because he was talking to another woman while Iris was still missing. "Her name was Iris Chase, she was uniquely talented. It made her an asset to our firm, but she had a past, and that caught up to her. Someone wanted her, badly. So they came for her. I was Chief of Security, we expected trouble we didn't expect Mega Corp trouble." As he spoke, the hand behind her head dug into the synthetic leather of the stuffed couch, his cold cybernetic eyes betrayed nothing, his face remained calm except for a slight twitch beneath his right eye, "We were betrayed from within, the extraction had been planned, breaching charges placed, routes confirmed, I'd found the route, I was beside the charges when they went off. Blast didn't kill me, least not right away, bullet to the head did." He looked towards Rowe, there was something on his face, grief, perhaps. "Aisha told me I was down 7 minutes, she was the one who scraped me off the rubble, brought what was left of me to the recovery clinic." His hand released the stuffed couch, having torn through the leather cover.
He smiled sadly, then his eyebrow raised, and he spoke softly, "'But tears run down to the ocean, in rivers that can carve through stone, and in the dawning morning, we see that we were not alone.' Mercurial? I think she liked listening to her, I preferred jazz, old pre awakened jazz, but For the Children kinda stuck with me."
He looked around the garage bay, and a fog lifted from his face, as if suddenly remembering the den of wolves they had sought refuge in, while trying to evade the pack of dogs that had their scent. "Maybe we can talk more later, but we should stay focused on the here and now, so there is a later for us, yeah?" He looked around the garage, spotted what he was looking for, and disentangled himself from her comforting weight, picking up a pair of work gloves, he grabbing a pair of tin snips, and cut the fingers off. "Try these on, should help with the chaffing from the wheel rails." He paused, as he handed her the gloves, considering, "You got a jack Rowena? I know when they were first calibrating my legs, the hooked up an external connection, we may be able to find braces or something like that."