[ Baymax could have cried from the swell of emotion one little word did to him. By all means he should have, really. Perhaps he's forgotten how.
He's no longer a nine-foot robot or a six-foot bodyguard, but a reasonably sized middle-aged man. His suit and tie are tailored, his hair parted to once side, his glasses resting plainly on his nose like he'd always been like this. He was so normal, so unassuming.
He's smiling, but there's something sad in his eyes. Still, he wipes away Hiro's tears with his thumbs and speaks -- his voice is no longer a rumbling synthetic sound. ]
I'm sorry, Hiro. There's so much I haven't told you. I didn't... I wasn't sure how you'd take this. I didn't want you to feel burdened, like you were forced to care about a man you didn't know.
I'm -- Baymax -- is a product of Hiro Takachiho's grief. It's not a life I would have ever chosen for myself, but it's the one that I have, and I'm forever grateful for this chance to stay by my son's side.
no subject
He's no longer a nine-foot robot or a six-foot bodyguard, but a reasonably sized middle-aged man. His suit and tie are tailored, his hair parted to once side, his glasses resting plainly on his nose like he'd always been like this. He was so normal, so unassuming.
He's smiling, but there's something sad in his eyes. Still, he wipes away Hiro's tears with his thumbs and speaks -- his voice is no longer a rumbling synthetic sound. ]
I'm sorry, Hiro. There's so much I haven't told you. I didn't... I wasn't sure how you'd take this. I didn't want you to feel burdened, like you were forced to care about a man you didn't know.
I'm -- Baymax -- is a product of Hiro Takachiho's grief. It's not a life I would have ever chosen for myself, but it's the one that I have, and I'm forever grateful for this chance to stay by my son's side.