“Humans are sentimental.” Said as an observation, not a critique. “If you were particularly attached to a rosebush, for example, would it not upset you if it were destroyed by slugs? You would simply... transport them elsewhere? Even if the plant experienced a large amount of destruction?”

Hank had plants, although Connor isn’t sure whether he were especially attached to them. If his plants were attacked by such ‘pests,’ Connor imagines Hank might have sworn. Gone to grab a can of bug spray.

Now, Connor idly wonders about Hank’s plants. Are they alive? Dead? With neither Hank nor Connor to tend to them, he is uncertain.

The thought is unpleasant, so Connor makes an attempt to wipe the vivid imagery from his mind before continuing.

“Yes,” he acquiesces, arm jerking ever so slightly beneath Glenn’s hand. It feels odd: to be touched. People have always hated him. For the few months since his activation, he has been a thing. “I would like to... sit.”

Again: a preference expressed. Even though the room is dark, he imagines that Glenn might find it unsettling if he were to remain standing.