I-I'm Heatman. [It comes out a mumble, and he retreats back inside his box again while they talk until he hears that last part]

Aren't we, though? [He asks it between sniffles, even as he reaches out a hand of his own from his box to grasp onto the wrist of the one on his lid without looking] We're tools. We were never meant to be people. That's why crying is-

[Another sniff]

It's just a waste of everybody's time.