Redhawk Caldera westworld

His shoulder lifted slightly, shrugging. "You," he said evenly, as if this were the most logical answer to him. He had always thought red smelled explicitly like gore, but he saw the color now, clear as day -- something softer and yet more vivid -- on the face of a flower he had seen maybe once before. Kaizer felt an odd twinge just then, an actual desire to tell her something about himself. He wanted to say that red was his favorite color; that any varying shade of blood made him feel his own spirit more intensely than any shade of green grass or blue sky ever could.

But he swallowed the feeling whole, completely unwilling to reveal a sentiment that felt too foreign for him to share. Especially with someone he'd technically just met; which was strange considering how backwards he was being -- willing to touch others, even intimately, before getting to know them. She dove her small nose into the thick of his ruff, his back leg beginning to jump slightly at the tease of her teeth. "Yellow?" he echoed, pulling his mouth away from her shoulders so that he might set a blithely skeptical eye upon her face. "Like snow when you pee on it?"