[The tightening of her expression. The forced laughter. On instinct, Connor knows what that indicates, for he'd make for a most terrible kind of RK800 if he didn't; he's made her some form of uncomfortable. Melancholic, probably, and belatedLY he realizes that talk of one's contentedness at home, as contrasted to this place, might not have been the best route to take.]
...Forgive me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Would you-
[He frowns. He should probably adjust the route this conversation is taking.]
no subject
...Forgive me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Would you-
[He frowns. He should probably adjust the route this conversation is taking.]
Would you like to speak on another subject?