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Summary
It had been a rough morning.
And rough wouldn’t even begin to describe the absolute cluster-fuck that was this week. But this morning? This morning was rough.
He has a bruise under his leg and in the middle of his ribs, maybe a broken one? He’s not allowed medical until they decide which jail he’s worth, he hopes for a nice middle ground jail, like Sainsbury, or Callum. He knows the prosecution got their jury so it looked like it was about to hurt him, institutionally, and physically.
There’s thousands of little scabs all around his body from his mech exploding. Fuck. His suit. He let his head fall and bang onto the cold metal table, his cuffs jangled at the movement before the metallic fall of his wrists accompanied his head. Right. His fucking mech blew up. Fuck.
Add that to the list of failures, right next to getting caught, and not thinking up a contingency plan to get out.
Or,
Villain Robert is at his lowest, when SDN swoops in and gives him a (...good?) plea deal.