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“I mean, don't- don't get me wrong,” he continued, after an extra-long pause, just to make sure. “I don't want to go back, not in a million years- in fact, can I just state right now, just for the record, that I am never, ever, setting foot back in there, ever again. Ever. Not even part of a foot or, or even a finger. Not even the tip of a finger, it's not going to happen. It's just...”

He fiddled with his tie, his voice fading to a mutter, his fidgety fingers pausing at the edge of the small grey circle-shutter logo on his shirt.

“I'm an Aperture device, aren't I? Out here, it's not- it's- I'm... I'm not compatible with anything. Daft sort of way of putting it, probably, to you, but basically true. I don't have a point, you know? Sorry, sorry, again, you don't know, asleep, obviously, but if you weren't, maybe you would. Not likely, but possible, you might.”

Wheatley sighed again. He unfolded himself and set the pebble-lamp down on the floor, getting to his feet, casting huge jerky shadows across the ceiling, as if someone with a knack for shadow-puppetry was violently murdering an enormous spider. Chell hadn't moved again since she'd rolled over. She stayed where she was, curled away from him towards the wall.

“Well... cheers for listening, anyway,” he said.

Blue Sky

Read it. You'll be happy you did. Amazingful writings.

Wheatley and Chell (c) VALVE

Description
“I mean, don't- don't get me wrong,” he continued, after an extra-long pause, just to make sure. “I don't want to go back, not in a million years- in fact, can I just state right now, just for the record, that I am never, ever, setting foot back in there, ever again. Ever. Not even part of a foot or, or even a finger. Not even the tip of a finger, it's not going to happen. It's just...”

He fiddled with his tie, his voice fading to a mutter, his fidgety fingers pausing at the edge of the small grey circle-shutter logo on his shirt.

“I'm an Aperture device, aren't I? Out here, it's not- it's- I'm... I'm not compatible with anything. Daft sort of way of putting it, probably, to you, but basically true. I don't have a point, you know? Sorry, sorry, again, you don't know, asleep, obviously, but if you weren't, maybe you would. Not likely, but possible, you might.”

Wheatley sighed again. He unfolded himself and set the pebble-lamp down on the floor, getting to his feet, casting huge jerky shadows across the ceiling, as if someone with a knack for shadow-puppetry was violently murdering an enormous spider. Chell hadn't moved again since she'd rolled over. She stayed where she was, curled away from him towards the wall.

“Well... cheers for listening, anyway,” he said.

Blue Sky

Read it. You'll be happy you did. Amazingful writings.

Wheatley and Chell (c) VALVE