[ miyamura's conviction is doing a number on makoto's already defunct resolve. he already folds half the time for lesser favors, is it really so bad to let himself get lulled into a false sense of security and leave him for dead — it wasn't like he had any real plans for insurgency, what with the status of his world gone down the crapshoot with the outset of robots toting presumably questionable thresholds for moral conduct. it's a war of attrition with their continued existence as the bargaining chips and their compliance the hypothetical croupier. all he needs to is the results of his wager: real or not real.

but ... you know. he's hung-up on this not-so-sketchy kid (it's hard to be weird when you've got people like rei and haru for contenders) battling it out for his sake, and makoto's actually endeared? it might be his bleeding heart speaking, but he'd feel nothing less than abhorrent for ditching him just like that.

against the common laws of physics (and his own impressive height), he's having a difficult time keeping his grip solid when he's got both hands tentatively palmed over miyamura's shoulders in a bizarre display of intimacy, like there isn't a wriggling santa bot swiping wire-thin appendages between them. ]

W-Wait, please — it's really okay! Lots of people just went in right now, and they aren't screaming, so it can't be that awful. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding! If it does attack you, or any of us for that matter, I'll act as a decoy, so ... you can let go now, right?

[ voice pitched high and squeaky in an awkward vocal waltz of one, he stares deeply into miyamura's eyes, beleaguered and pleading. ]

I'll take responsibility.