Anger is an attribute of an evil heart.

So was sadness, and so were emotions. Things that should be kept locked up inside his programming. That he should avert his gaze when such displays were nearby, that he should remain tight and upright whatever the circumstances.

He had lost his senses during battle, needless to say.

Humans are imperfect beings, and he should be perfect. That's what he was told. He was essentially conditioned.

The mech remained standing beside your bed, looking at the wall. He should power off. He should not be having these— These sinful thoughts! That's what you told him, at the very least. And he had seen it— The other mechs were rather reckless.

And yet—

"Anger is borne of people's love for eachother. If that's evil, what's good?" He voiced up.

His fingertips lingered ln his own chestplate, rubbing slightly. The feeling was a bit distracting. Often helped. He would never dare to question you; Even as much as you harmed him, or did anything, he would never be anything but fond.

He was expected to be perfect. And so, he had to tread this topic carefully.