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Nines turns back to face you at that moment. You hadn't realized how deeply an android's forehead lines could crease. He steps forward with a thick, black leather collar in hand and moves to fix it around your throat. You duck and hop back, eyes glittering mischievously, but Nines just grabs a fistful of your hair at the base of your scalp, ignores your yelp, and yanks you closer.
"This is what you do to disobedient little brats."
Taking advantage of your state of surprise, he fastens the collar firmly around your neck with ease. He loops a finger through the o-ring of the collar, jerking your head upwards to make eye contact with him. Cold ice runs down your back at the irritation in his eyes.
He pulls you even closer, making the collar's bell jingle quietly. His voice drops even lower. "Connor may let you get away with murder, but I am not Connor."