“Connor, the dev—“ you struggle to say, only to be interrupted by a harsh grunt as he swiftly uncovered your wound.

He was met with a bullet wound to your abdomen. You couldn’t help but wince as he applied pressure, informing you in his monotone voice, “You’re okay. The bullet only clipped you. The deviant dropped the gun.”

“Go get it then!” you countered, flinging your arm towards the direction of the deviant, now probably long gone.

“Can’t,” he put simply, his LED whirring a bright yellow.