She's strangely sad that she can't see him anymore, not really, just the top of his head with his short ruffled hair, but as long as he keeps speaking to her Nine isn't going to complain.

And true to his expectations, Nine can't seem to make heads or tails of this question; there's a long hesitation in pure confusion before she answers. "Well-- no. But no one's ever asked me." A note of despair wells up, gripping her hard and fast, bleakness suddenly reminding her how tired she is. A few days with some food and water isn't enough for her to recover, and emotional fatigue, although she wouldn't identify it as that, is hounding her, draining all of her reserves.

"Who would? I'm not even human. I was part of a supersoldier project commissioned to House Bharaputra. I'm sure whoever owns this facility bought me for that, hopes I'll be their leashed weapon." A growl hints in her voice, animalistic-- but the anger is all tangled together with self-loathing. "Weapons don't have names."