A slow nod.
"No wonder you look like hell."
Tron musters an impressive glower and rolls over, showing his back and dully glowing Disc to Sam. He rolls his eyes and leans over, places a hand on the program's arm.
"Want me to get rid of the virus or are you just going to tough it out?"
A miserable, rattling rumble answers him. Sam can’t help smiling as he slides his hand up, runs his fingers through Tron's hair and draws out a more contented purr. "You can ask, you know."
Tron sighs. "Can you?"