Chase cocked his head slightly to the side.<span style="font-style: italic">She's not fighting...</span>he thought curiously. With a slight intake of breath he stood up and strolled over to the glass. Looking through the window, he saw what he thought was a very stupid sight. She was dodging, refusing to hit, a robot.<br/><br/>"You do realize," he called calmly, though not sure how well she could hear him through the glass, "that you're fighting a robot. It doesn't bleed, doesn't feel pain, doesn't die, and it's not something you can convince to stop attacking. Just trash it already," he said. "If you don't," he added, "I don't think the officials would stop it from killing you." His head cocked slightly to the side, "People who can't or won't fight aren't useful enough to keep alive. And there's only one life to be lost in this fight from the start."<br/><br/>Right now, Chase felt like he was speaking from three different parts of his being. One part wanted the girl to fight so she could survive. Another wanted her to fight back so he could see bloodshed. The third wanted her to fight just so his turn would come quicker. All of him wanted to see Stella fight back.