[Given the amount of general harassment he has faced since arriving here (simply for being ball-shaped), he can’t deny that this is a positive development. Still, it’s not like he prepared for this, and the notification that grants him a new bipedal chassis seemingly by magic does not go so far as to include walking protocols.
 
Wheatley doesn't make it very far on his new metal legs before he starts tripping over them, and when he hits the floor, he finds it incredibly complicated to coordinate arms and legs in such a way to balance and stand. That's where you come in.]
 
Hi! Yes, hello. Sorry, I mean, ah. Would you mind? Helping me up, that is. I'd do it myself, but, uh, as you can see. Having—having a bit of difficulty, here.
 
[Ideally, this will be the last time he ever asks someone to pick him up off the floor, but possibly a train car full of warring dinosaurs is not the best place for this to happen. Congratulations! This is your problem now, also probably there are dinosaurs nearby.]

[Wheatley is your beloved son orb (sorb).
 
Actually, he doesn’t understand any of this. Now that he has arms and legs and a body, the train seems to think it’s appropriate to outfit him in a coat and fedora. He has a “PRESS” card in his hat and he's got a tablet and pen, signifying, perhaps, that he's supposed to be some kind of journalist. Spiffy as this feels (even if the intricacies of human clothing are sort of beyond him), it’s all soured a bit by the fact that he doesn’t quite understand what the hovering bars mean and possibly he’s achieved more than one game over.

Which is frustrating! But that’s okay—maybe he just needs to tackle this with another passenger. That’s you! He’s clanking his way over to you RIGHT NOW!!!]

Okay, so, I’m not making any progress talking to the locals, if you catch my drift. Wondering if you’ve had any. Success. In that department. Also wondering your thoughts on, perhaps, a bit of a team-up. Safety in numbers, right? Well, not safety, really, but uh, the more brains the merrier, is what I’m getting at.

[He looks very earnest, about solving the murder, at least, holding his pen and pad expectantly.]

What do you say? Partners?

Oh, well, that’s—

[It’s dark! That’s okay—Wheatley has only occasionally worried about pitch darkness, even less so now that he knows he can activate his flashlight without dying. He’ll solve the mystery of this car in no time at all.]

Don’t worry, don’t worry—I’ve got this.

[It seems like he is just going to talk to himself. In the dark. After a moment, however, a light clicks on—it the aforementioned flashlight. For some reason, however, it doesn’t have the reach it usually does, which makes his shutters narrow in confusion, at least until he sees the torch, and then, possibly, a fellow passenger (you).]
 
All right, this is all well and good, but uh. I don’t suppose you see anything we can use to light it, do you?

[You know what is not good for delicate metal workings? Water. And sand, but mostly water. This car has both in abundance, and Wheatley is not enthused. The last thing he wants is to ruin his brand new chassis so soon after receiving it! The train will be so upset with him, probably.

As such, he can’t really enjoy the vacation car. He shuffles clumsily from beach to sauna to hot springs to spa nervously, like one wrong step will kill him (it most certainly will). It’s the flying sharks that put him over the edge.]

I don’t understand how all of you are so calm about this! All the water, and the—do you—do you not see that, up there?

[There is a robot freaking out in the middle of the tiki bar. He’s had enough!!!]

[Whatever you want. Hit me up on discord at whitticus#8139 or just tell me you want a wildcard starter and I’ll write you one.]