[Connor clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth when the mask stays firmly in place. It's bad enough he's here against his will, worse that he's not even sure where here is- but foisting stupid games on him like this mask is a step too far, the shiny, perfect cherry on top of the stinky shit sundae. He raises his hands, stopping himself just short of waving her hands away from his mask, then taking a step back to cover the brief flare of irritation.]

I see. It didn't hurt to test the hypothesis.

[She's giving him his space, enough room for him to settle, take a breath, and compose himself. And why wouldn't she? Chloe was designed to be the perfect companion and hostess, to be innocuous and unobtrusive, and all to Kamski's particular specifications. Was it even possible for her to offend? Although the eye contact is peculiar; he isn't sure what to make of it yet.]

I've heard similar whisperings, but I thought to explore other options first so as not to leave any stone unturned. Unless you have a secret to share, I won't trouble you further.

[His voice is nonchalant, almost dismissive, as though he has no secrets of his own. He doesn't, at least none that he cares to voice. But Chloe- through his mask, he stares at her shrewdly, assessing. Processing.]