"I'm - " he begins hotly, all familiar bluster, and promptly deflates. "I'm a core," says Wheatley, semi-listlessly. "I'm - I maintain things. Important things!"

He's insisting it aloud for the other man's benefit as much as it is for his own, but it isn't doing any good. It's all rather moot, isn't it? Lost his job, lost any sort of professional credibility, then catapulted into a whole other universe right on top of it. He's never been a hero, or an accomplisher, or anything of the sort. He just makes a right bloody mess of things.

Wheatley gets himself into a sitting position and then has no idea where to go from there. In the case that he tries to stand, he's a bit worried he might just end up flat on his back again.