[Heatman nods along as he watched Gold Foot with big, bright optics]

What kind of brother are you? I don't know what kind I am. I try to save up jokes to tell them and I draw pictures of them on the inside of my box where I'll see them no matter what but I, um. I mess up a lot. I do stuff that don't make much sense when people explain that I'm confused, or um-

[He falters, and offers a shaky smile as his arms stop swinging] Or my coding makes me do things that aren't... that aren't good. Dr. Wily- [He shrugs and looks away] I don't think a lot of people agree with how he made us. Made me. Is all.

[Another shrug, and he looks back as he nibbles at the fingers of one of his armored gloves]

So, um. What kind are you?