He entered his quarters and, relaxed, sliding down against the door until he was sitting. He turned his focus inward to his coding, looking for that one line that would free him. It clicked into place in his processor and he felt his armour and weapon systems falling away, the sensation of rapidly shrinking still uncomfortable after all these vorns.
He vented slowly when the last piece of metal had settled on the floor beneath him. He stood, gently, mindful of the delicate equipment spread out around him. Touching a small indent inscribed with the symbol for Primus in a lost, ancient language, started the sequence. The metal collapsed on itself until it was merely a red and blue metal box. He picked it up and put it just next to the door, against the wall. He took two steps to the left to a panel, making sure to put on the soundproofing of his room.
He then walked into his private washracks and looked at himself in a mirror no one knew he possessed. He just simply stood there, staring, then suddenly launched into motion.
He jumped. He squealed. He sang. He danced. He laughed.
Everything he was never allowed to do, he would never be allowed to do in front of others.
He knew that soon he would have to go back, would have to return to that stoic mask he loathed with a passion. For now though, he could be himself, without fear of any punishment.
Without fear of what the Matrix would do.