Chelldon. Wheatley looked over Tyler's shoulder at the human just...sitting there. He swallowed and frowned at him. Really. He needed his Test Subject. They needed to...

Talk. Or he needed to talk and Chelldon needed to jump. "We need a moment," Wheatley said. "Well, maybe ten. How long is a moment? It's not actually measurable. So let's say ten minutes. Chelldon and I. Be right back."

If the Chief wasn't dead already, he'd be fine for another ten minutes.

When Tyler and Handy cleared out, Wheatley flung his arm around the poor, brain damaged man.

"No more murder, Chelldon. All right?"