"No? No. That's weird. That's - bit weird, yeah. Ah, sorry, what?" He watches her suspiciously as she takes hold of his arm, uncertain as to what she might be planning to do with it.

"Never really got the whole point of them, clothes," says Wheatley helpfully, indicating his own semi-professional wear with a tilt of his chin. "Seemed a bit superfluous, didn't they? Never needed them as a core, no sir, no clothes for this member of upper management. It's just this whole extra step, isn't it, seems a right pain."

He's hard-pressed to find anything objectionable about the clothes of his captor, nothing really noteworthy there except the fact that she's now got some where she formerly didn't.

"Sorry, do I know you?" he asks, peering at her a bit closer. "Don't think so. Haven't seen you around, have I?"