It was very possible that Constance was far, far to drunk to be having her first experience with a blow-up vinyl robot man. It was very possible lots of things. Such was the state of the world while she looked over her glass at what she had tentatively deemed a 'creature' in the privacy of her own mind. The question of what defined life or not was too far beyond her in that moment of all she might have, leaving it far easier to accept a simpler explanation for the immediate future.

She lowered her glass, lips pressing into a moue of concern before she reached out a hand and awkwardly (being unsure whether it would feel it or not) pat Baymax's arm. "I'm sorry."