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[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

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[devoutish]

You haven't been in a good state in all the time I've known you, mate.

[headjacked]

[ Rhys snorts a gross, teary snort. ]

Well, this time I brought my shovel and started digging!




Myself. Into a hole. A pit.

[devoutish]

And now you're feeling sorry for yourself, and what exactly is that gonna do for you?

[headjacked]

...nothing. It's not about me in the end.

S'why I'm talking to you, you. Like I said, you don't put up with it. Whining and stuff.

[devoutish]

I do not, no.

[And if this were any kind of life-or-death or time-sensitive situation, Alfie would be much less patient. Sorry, Rhys.]

You need to pull yourself together. I cannot tell you how to do that.

[headjacked]

I know.

I just like talking to you is all. [ He sounds like a little kid. He can't stop himself. ] I mean, you basically yanked me off the edge of crazytown last time I was losing it. Just by talking.

[devoutish]

That is better done in person, not over these widdly things.

You haven't been dealing with it, have you? But when you don't deal with it, you become a fucking liability, and I don't think you want that.

[headjacked]

I thought I was functional, but holy shit, was I wrong. I.

[ DEEEEEP. BREATH. ]

Angel and I, we'll stay put for a little while. A little while. I can get over myself then.

[devoutish]

And then? What are your plans?

[headjacked]

I, um. I figure out what I say to Fiona. If I say anything to her. She doesn't want to hear from me, so... hell, maybe that's what's best here.

[devoutish]

Mm, yeah.

I never understood why you'd want any of that in your body in the first place.

[headjacked]

Any... wh- cybernetics?

[devoutish]

Yeah. The arm, the eye, the thing in your head.

[headjacked]

It's... honestly not, uh. Not a big deal in my time-slash-place. The implant surgery is safe. Mostly safe.

[devoutish]

It's fucking unnatural.

[headjacked]

Time marches on, I-I guess? And if you're down a limb, a fully responsive replacement is better than... a block of wood, or. Uh. Whatever they used in your day.

[devoutish]

Suppose so.

But a block of wood doesn't try to be a replacement, does it.

[headjacked]

Mmm.

If your arm was gone, and the option was there... you wouldn't go for what I have?

[devoutish]

It'd be useful.

[He can at least admit that.]

But an arm that acts just like an arm, but is metal rather than flesh? That's fucking eerie, mate. It's fucking mental.

[headjacked]

If you really wanna navel-gaze, we're all just sacks of flesh carrying our brains around, which is -- it's kind of the only 'us'. -- you get me, I think. Words are a little --

[ Hard. Rhys holds both hands out, bending his fingers in sync. ]

They're both my arms.

[devoutish]

And that's the part I don't think I'd ever feel comfortable with.

[headjacked]

You can't knock it 'til you've tried it.

[devoutish]

It's not for me.

[headjacked]

So try not to lose your limbs. N-not that I'd be able to make you a quality replacement here. Though -- never say never.

I'd try, is what I'm saying. I'd try for you.

[devoutish]

[Oh, Rhys.]

Honestly, mate, I'd rather have wood.