He'll take that invitation. Watson retrieves his coffee from where he's left it, in its paper to-go cup, and sits down, leaning his cane nearby. He takes a sip, waiting to see if there's an answer forthcoming. Apparently not.
It actually goes back to counting bottles, processing its way to an answer with the rest of its mind, finishing a shelf before shrugging. It doesn't face Watson when it does speak.
"I don't know if I have ever been happy. So trying to ensure that I am seems like an impossible task. Not worth the effort. It's a nice idea, but probably something you should give up on."
"The other part of friendship," Watson says over his coffee cup, "is that when your friend is unhappy, you offer company and comfort and a listening ear, if needed."
For a moment he's quiet, looking at Murderbot fiddle with bottles. "If you have truly never been happy, my friend, then I'm very sorry indeed, but I shan't give up."
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"What is it, Rin?"
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"I don't know if I have ever been happy. So trying to ensure that I am seems like an impossible task. Not worth the effort. It's a nice idea, but probably something you should give up on."
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For a moment he's quiet, looking at Murderbot fiddle with bottles. "If you have truly never been happy, my friend, then I'm very sorry indeed, but I shan't give up."