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"Hi, friend!"
Elliott scowled into his glass. The phone call with his mother and the stress-excitement of the winter event's planning and line recordings had him going for a strong drink. Hearing that synthesized voice just made him want to screw the cup and drink right from the bottle. He was not in the mood for this.
And yet he knew Pathfinder wasn't going to leave until he got a reply. "Hey." Elliott muttered, taking another sip and the alcohol burned on the way down. It didn't help. "Did you need something?" he took note of the fact he was hogging the kitchen counter. "Going to try another re-re-re-make food?"
A smiley face appeared on Pathfinder's chest. "Everyone liked the last one, maybe I should. No, I came to congratulate you! It must be wonderful to be in charge of the event. Your creator must be so proud!"
Elliott's nails dug into the counter, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "You-!" he sucked in a deep breath, trying to temper the fury which simmered underneath his skin.
Pathfinder jerked upright at the tone, screen going through a flurry of question marks, and his voice came out tentative, "Friend?"
Elliott stared at him, and for a moment he was back in the Paradise Lounge, and for the first time meeting the strangely self-aware MRVN uncertain and awkward about the world beside their desire to find a creator who might not even be alive.
Beneath his suspicion about how genuine Pathfinder's attitude was; whether calling everyone 'friend' was some cheap gimmick or he really did see them all as his friend-he'd singled Elliott out as his best friend.
Elliott set his drink aside, and rubbed a hand down his face. "Yeah, Marvin, I'm your friend." he shot him a sharp glance. "Though don't go telling anyone." he added, tone only half-hearted.
Pathfinder tilted his head, more question marks on his screen. "Of course I don't tell anyone you're my friend." It shifted abruptly to the love emoji, and Elliott stiffened. "You're my best friend and I love you!"
He has no idea what he's saying, Elliott thought, the same conclusion he came to every time Pathfinder said he loved him. Despite soaking up the attention from his fans, that simple declaration from the robot always...unnerved him.
And irritated him. How could Pathfinder so-so easily say that? It never made sense to Elliott, because how could anyone love him?
"Why do you love me?" The words slipped out, and Elliott clenched his jaw. Too late now to take it back.
Pathfinder blinked slowly, and question marks littered his screen once more. "Why...wouldn't I?" he asked, tone uncertain. "When we met, you helped me. You told me about the games and that it could get my creator's attention. Because of you I've made so many wonderful friends. I love all of them, but you the most!"
"I don't deserve it." The alcohol must be loosening his tongue, because why couldn't Elliott stop speaking. "It was a su-sur-shock seeing you here. I didn't think you'd sign up."
"But I did; I took your advice and I'm the best teammate I can be- does make you proud of me?" Pathfinder hunched in on himself, arms bent to his chest like he was an eager puppy.
Elliott's throat tightened. He couldn't look at him. In that moment, the guilt and shame of letting his jealousy and bitterness get the better of him all rushed in, tying his stomach in knots.
That's why he didn't deserve his love.
"You don't need me to be proud of you." Elliott muttered. "Everyone else is."
Pathfinder's reaction surprised him. His form slumped, hands hanging by his side. His screen changed to a crying face. "You were the first one who told me I could be something."
For the first time, Elliott thought-really thought-about just how lonely Pathfinder must have been. Waking up alone, lost and uncertain about yourself or your purpose or who even just made you. And finding someone who (on the surface) thought you could achieve your dream-
Elliott's vision blurred. He blinked hard, and he gritted his teeth to force the tears back. It had to be the stress, the strain of the event and ever present worry about his mother or just the alcohol getting to him. It couldn't be the unsettling notion that someone actually saw him as their friend.
"Friend?" Pathfinder shifted on his pedes, distress clear in his voice. "Are you hurt? Do you need Ajay? A high-five?" he lifted his hand as though that may help. "Elliott?"
That did it. Elliott threw himself off the chair, and right at Pathfinder. He collided with the robot's chest as an exclamation mark flashed in the screen, and the impact hurt but Elliott didn't care as he buried his face against the robot's shoulder. It smelled like copper and oil and was the least comforting scent in the world but he didn't care about that either right now.
Pathfinder shifted, perhaps a bit perplexed but he hugged Elliott back in a hug that wasn't too tight, and appear to care either when the man began sobbing into his shoulder. "Don't worry, I've got you, friend. I'm waterproof, so you can cry as long as you want!"
That should not have been funny, but Elliott laughed anyway. And if Pathfinder was serious about viewing him as his best friend, Elliott knew it was time to actually start being worthy of that title.