When all is said and done and Connor has returned to normal, he will more than likely seek out Sephiroth to apologize to him, regardless of whether or not he's cognizant of Chloe's friendship with him. Right now though he really, really just wants to kill him. He's distantly aware that something is off here; the fact that he abandoned his preconstructive software in order to mindlessly attack the other should have been more than enough to clue him in. But he's heavily under the influence of his transformation, in too deep to care. All he knows is that he's angry, hungry, and frustrated by his inability to do anything about them.

Finally, finally one of his blows lands, but before he can even feel satisfaction Sephiroth has drawn his wicked-looking blade. Connor stops to regroup, fists clenched at his sides, assessing this new development. Even his rage-soaked processor understands that this changes things, that the situation has suddenly become much more of a personal threat. This isn't about making a meal of Sephiroth anymore; Connor is acutely aware that he himself is now in danger. He bites his lower lip, taking a step back, his eyes flicking between the blade and Sephiroth's face.

There are a lot of people at this carnival, a lot of weaker, unsuspecting people who would make for much easier prey. His LED pulses a dull red and his lip curls as he hisses at Sephiroth angrily, and if not for his lack of a tail whipping back and forth, he would look remarkably like a puffed-up cat, hackles raised and fur standing on end. His eyes finally meet and hold steady with Sephiroth's, and for the first time there is a shadow of fear behind the fury.

With a last, lingering look at the blade, Connor growls at him, showing his teeth, and then he backs away at last, keeping Sephiroth in his sights as he retreats.