You're on the ground, heart pounding. The world is spinning. You’re about to pass out, fully expecting to be left behind. But instead, you hear the mechanical whir of drones—his drones—circling protectively overhead. And then— A voice. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m the only one who gets to torment this particular human.” Next thing you know, you’re being scooped up—probably a little too roughly—into his arms. His coat smells like burnt circuits and coffee. His grip is firm but not crushing. And his voice? Annoyed. Frustrated. But underneath it all, there's something else. Something dangerously close to concern.