Murderbot’s telling pinches something within 2B. If she were to run a quick scan, perform diagnostics, nothing would show up. She was perfectly functional. She was, in the was of something artificial, in working order.

But something has been placed, there. Something that makes her go quiet and allows the conversation to fade into quiet. Possibility. Answers. Perhaps—?

She must think, but she will leave the other construct with her book of many, many memories, flaws, and misery born from exactly what the SecUnit has freed itself from. 2B wonders, in her silence, if she could do the same. If she should.

It was something to ponder, and ponder is what she does.