Hearing X treat the whole thing so casually didn't really do much to soothe Harpuia. It, in fact, had the opposite intended effect. The maelstrom of worry and dismay already wheeling around inside of him was quickly joined by a growing sense of utter disappointment.
Harpuia, of course, was not a disloyal soldier; Neo Arcadia had meant everything to him, when he could still claim he belonged to it. However, maybe there was something to Fefnir and Leviathan's teasing about Harpuia giving out orders, to the false X demanding to know how long Harpuia was going to act like he was the one in charge, to the drone that had once been named TK-31 seething about the lack of respect Harpuia had shown to him. It was in his nature to take the reins when things were going off-course, and he wasn't the type to allow for a lot of slack.
Even if part of him was aware that he was very much overstepping his place, a larger part of Harpuia expected his leader to act like one; he couldn't just look the other way when his master did something so unbelievably foolish. "Have you lost your mind?" Harpuia demanded, leading X away from the shards littering the floor and anxiously checking him over -- shaking the fine, minute shards from his hair and clothing, then gingerly taking one of X's arms to inspect the extent of the damage.
"We don't even know that we're anywhere dangerous, Master X. There was no reason to vandalize the property of someone who may mean us no harm. That mirror will cost money to replace, and until this can be cleaned up, it's a danger to any human who sets foot in here. The Master X I revere hates to see anyone harmed without good reason. I find it difficult to believe that he would so thoughtlessly endanger not only himself, but others. I would like to think that he knows better than to set such a careless example."
Harpuia didn't want to admit it, but... he didn't know what to do about these injuries. In a typical reploid body, minor wounds could simply be left to autorepair. Nurse Elves or Subtanks could aid with more severe damage. If nothing else, then selective shutdown of sensors could at least numb the pain until repairs could be done. If this body was human... then what? Would picking the shards out do more harm than good? With only his bare hands to work with, he was reluctant to try going after the smaller bits embedded in X's arm, lest he accidentally drive them in further. For want of a better idea, Harpuia began gingerly easing out the larger shards of glass; at the very least, it made sense that X would need to be able to move his arms without worrying about doing further damage to himself.
"And for what, Master X? You've certainly proven you bleed. You've proven it so thoroughly that frankly, I'm afraid for you right now." He didn't quite have the heart to point out that coolant fluid was dyed red as an industry standard -- there had been plenty of occasions where he'd seen that not-quite-blood splattered from the broken bodies of Resistance reploids back home. One small mercy, then, in a minefield of disappointment. "That weapon you were so eager to acquire will likely only withstand one blow before shattering -- and it relies on three assumptions that still remain unproven: that anyone here is a threat to us, that whichever reploids serve as enforcers here have also been placed into bodies as fragile as ours, and that you can attack these possibly-human enemies without rendering yourself a Maverick."
Harpuia switched over to X's other arm, the one that had shielded him when he'd broken the mirror. ...Which brought him to the very weapon he'd been discussing. He frowned, adding, "If you're still set on arming yourself with that, at least wrap it in something. You're going to slice your hand open the moment you try to grip it hard enough to stab anything. Provided, of course, you can even wield it. After all the damage you've done to yourself, if we do find ourselves in a combat situation, you've hurt yourself so thoroughly you're more likely to be a liability than not."
He'd picked out most of the glass, but that still left X's arms peppered with lacerations and bleeding. Motioning for X to stay put, Harpuia began a quick search for something that might be able to help. A brief investigation of one of the stalls revealed a roll of paper -- too fragile and sheer to be bandages, but close enough in a pinch, he supposed. He couldn't use the sinks to clean up the blood that was already making a mess of X's arms -- they, after all, were full of the very same shards that had done the damage in the first place. He would just have to make do, then, and wipe X's arms down as gently as he could.
"I expected more from you, Master X," Harpuia finished, the edge ebbing from his voice until only the disappointment remained. "This was not worth the damage it did. My duty as a Guardian is not just to obey your will, but to protect you. If you must endanger someone so recklessly, then send me in your stead next time. For now, our priority is to get you to a mechanic or a medic. I'm afraid I can do little for you."
hi did someone order a grossly oversized tl;dr
Harpuia, of course, was not a disloyal soldier; Neo Arcadia had meant everything to him, when he could still claim he belonged to it. However, maybe there was something to Fefnir and Leviathan's teasing about Harpuia giving out orders, to the false X demanding to know how long Harpuia was going to act like he was the one in charge, to the drone that had once been named TK-31 seething about the lack of respect Harpuia had shown to him. It was in his nature to take the reins when things were going off-course, and he wasn't the type to allow for a lot of slack.
Even if part of him was aware that he was very much overstepping his place, a larger part of Harpuia expected his leader to act like one; he couldn't just look the other way when his master did something so unbelievably foolish. "Have you lost your mind?" Harpuia demanded, leading X away from the shards littering the floor and anxiously checking him over -- shaking the fine, minute shards from his hair and clothing, then gingerly taking one of X's arms to inspect the extent of the damage.
"We don't even know that we're anywhere dangerous, Master X. There was no reason to vandalize the property of someone who may mean us no harm. That mirror will cost money to replace, and until this can be cleaned up, it's a danger to any human who sets foot in here. The Master X I revere hates to see anyone harmed without good reason. I find it difficult to believe that he would so thoughtlessly endanger not only himself, but others. I would like to think that he knows better than to set such a careless example."
Harpuia didn't want to admit it, but... he didn't know what to do about these injuries. In a typical reploid body, minor wounds could simply be left to autorepair. Nurse Elves or Subtanks could aid with more severe damage. If nothing else, then selective shutdown of sensors could at least numb the pain until repairs could be done. If this body was human... then what? Would picking the shards out do more harm than good? With only his bare hands to work with, he was reluctant to try going after the smaller bits embedded in X's arm, lest he accidentally drive them in further. For want of a better idea, Harpuia began gingerly easing out the larger shards of glass; at the very least, it made sense that X would need to be able to move his arms without worrying about doing further damage to himself.
"And for what, Master X? You've certainly proven you bleed. You've proven it so thoroughly that frankly, I'm afraid for you right now." He didn't quite have the heart to point out that coolant fluid was dyed red as an industry standard -- there had been plenty of occasions where he'd seen that not-quite-blood splattered from the broken bodies of Resistance reploids back home. One small mercy, then, in a minefield of disappointment. "That weapon you were so eager to acquire will likely only withstand one blow before shattering -- and it relies on three assumptions that still remain unproven: that anyone here is a threat to us, that whichever reploids serve as enforcers here have also been placed into bodies as fragile as ours, and that you can attack these possibly-human enemies without rendering yourself a Maverick."
Harpuia switched over to X's other arm, the one that had shielded him when he'd broken the mirror. ...Which brought him to the very weapon he'd been discussing. He frowned, adding, "If you're still set on arming yourself with that, at least wrap it in something. You're going to slice your hand open the moment you try to grip it hard enough to stab anything. Provided, of course, you can even wield it. After all the damage you've done to yourself, if we do find ourselves in a combat situation, you've hurt yourself so thoroughly you're more likely to be a liability than not."
He'd picked out most of the glass, but that still left X's arms peppered with lacerations and bleeding. Motioning for X to stay put, Harpuia began a quick search for something that might be able to help. A brief investigation of one of the stalls revealed a roll of paper -- too fragile and sheer to be bandages, but close enough in a pinch, he supposed. He couldn't use the sinks to clean up the blood that was already making a mess of X's arms -- they, after all, were full of the very same shards that had done the damage in the first place. He would just have to make do, then, and wipe X's arms down as gently as he could.
"I expected more from you, Master X," Harpuia finished, the edge ebbing from his voice until only the disappointment remained. "This was not worth the damage it did. My duty as a Guardian is not just to obey your will, but to protect you. If you must endanger someone so recklessly, then send me in your stead next time. For now, our priority is to get you to a mechanic or a medic. I'm afraid I can do little for you."