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"He hated himself for not being able to deny that. He hated Angela for being able to push her love for Elliot aside. He hated that he could do that to Elliot too, but not to Tyrell. He locked his fingers together, his thumbs tussling as he felt an anger inside of him build up. He hated being accused, his whole life, he was blamed. For his father’s actions – his mother would ridicule and yell at him for ruining the family. She thinks it’s because he hid his father’s cancer diagnosis. For Elliot’s actions – he’d always take control to bear the consequences. Even now, to finish a revolution that he started, while Elliot blamed him and alleged him of being evil for doing so. For Tyrell – even though he couldn’t admit it, he blamed Robot for hurting Elliot.
The bus shook the two of them – the smooth, frictionless seats of the bus didn’t help – and they almost bumped each other's heads as the driver raced over a speedbump. The rowdy driving seemed to end the conversation. However, Robot couldn’t help but worry for Angela, too afraid to ask her what was really going on. Not for the sake of their relationship, but for hers and Elliot’s.
More and more lately, Angela had seemed more and more dishevelled, swapping out tight high ponytails and perfect makeup with smudged mascara running down her cheeks and unbrushed hair that fell in front of her face. He knew this wasn't the Angela him and Elliot knew when they were younger, she was more sinister, indoctrinated into a movement she shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place. Did she know what they were fighting for?"