The boy most certainly did not get the clue. Unable to hold still for any amount of time even when he wasn’t excited, Patrick began talking at record speed, gesturing wildly and bounding around the room. Not once taking his eyes off his father. Which meant of course he was running into the furniture and walking right over whatever happened to be on the floor, regardless of what it was.
Patrick didn’t even bother giving Atlas a clue. Simply began talking.
"So I went int’ one’a Mr. Fontaine’s labs today an’ there was a tank full’a like… yellow stuff an’ when no one was lookin’ I went and looked in it an’ ya know what was in there? Do ya!? It was a person. They had people in the yellow stuff an’ then I started pokin’ around ‘cause I’m sneaky an’ no one ever sees me an’ I found a Big Daddy helmet but it didn’t have a Big Daddy inside it was jus’ th’ helmet an’ why do ya think they had a Big Daddy helmet layin’ around when there’s men in yellow stuff? Do ya think the men can breath in there?"
He really should have Pat-proofed the room, but at least there's nothing truly dangerous on the floor. There could have been bombs or needles or all sorts of things that he's still not sure how Patrick's avoided running into so far.
"What in God's name were you doin' at Fontaine's?" It's about the only thing he's managed to follow in this conversation, but he's having trouble moving past that. He scrambles over to grab his son and pick him up, before he breaks something. And Pat gets a look of fatherly concern. "Pat, y'can't go runnin' off if you're gonna be hangin' around there. That's Ryan's turf. Y'understand? I- whatever y'found there, people, big daddies, whatever it was, y'ain't goin' there again. Can ye promise me that?"