[He felt sort of drowsy and somewhat anxious, a narcotic heaviness still clinging deliciously to his limbs. It would never wholly leave him, the vertigo of the moment he was pulled from one nightmare and promptly thrown into the next, speeding along an unfamiliar train track; it would be with him for the rest of his life, and it would always be mingled inextricably with the sound of the sea – dull, swooning blue, the smell of salt perfuming the air – and his brother’s face burning a hole in his soul. It would be a moment that stayed with him for the entire time that he was forced to reside here, he was sure of it.

…Of course, none of these nauseating worries translate through in the feed. He is all smiles, charm, and wile. The demeanor seems to come to him naturally, his face held close to the screen of his device so that the electric blue of his eyes seem to shimmer with invitation, creating a kind of immediate biography, a shared recognition of the integrity of personhood, between himself and whoever happens to be looking back. It was shocking, Yancy's gaze. Alarming. Arresting. It was tumultuous and sleepy all the same, filled with a kind of extraordinary lure that was silent, instantaneous, and moved through his face as real a phenomenon as a sudden storm.]

You know, the drivesuit is a pretty cool look, but in this heat? I feel like my insides might be liquefying.

[He watches his unseen audience as carefully as a sailor watches the fixed star. He feels unsettled, but his features were set on the scaffolding of his bone as if riveted there; they expressed a force and jocularity that seemed almost metallic.]

Trouble is, I can’t just slip out of it. So are there any technicians out there? Engineers, maybe? Anyone that might be familiar with Jaeger machinations would be best, but if you’ve got a handle for nuts and bolts, I won’t complain. I can try my best to walk you through the nasty bits.

...C’mon, help a guy out?