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<> Magneto's Office - Brotherhood HQ(#438RC)
Magneto is on his feet, shoulders back, pacing the length of the back wall, so that silver and black edge in and out of shadow, even footfalls ringing heavily throughout the office - though the half-closed door serves somewhat to dull the echo. His desk clear save for the consistent tap of the Isaac's Cradle, and the visage of his helmet, it's difficult to guess at what he's been up to all day. For the moment, however, he's waiting.
Wait no more, Magnetic one! Toad strides proudly towards the office for the first time in a long time, his goggles over his eyes but not to hide any kind of emotion he might be suppressing. He's got his latest project following him in procession and is ready to show it off. Pyro's suit and matching goggles were fitted perfectly to his person and the magnesium ejectors were fine-tuned to better respond to the pressure points. It'll fit him like a glove and make him deadlier than before. And he'll look good being deadly. But before Pyro gets to be looked at, Toad has to make a proper introduction. So he stands in the doorway of Magneto's office and says, "Sir. As you requested, the flamethrower suit for Pyro 'as been completed." Then he steps aside and motions for the boy to come in. It's show and tell time!
Well, form-fitting suits were really meant for people with... forms. But despite a none-too-specacular frame, Pyro's not been able to stop stealing glances at himself at every opportunity. Because, just about anyone would look damn hot in such a fire suit. It's all he can do to not snap his fingers every step of the way. And now that's probably the cue for the goggles to go on, and he slides them over his face then steps through the door.
Magneto's attention turns immediately and raptly to the door at Toad's entrance, an accepting nod passed for the introduction - sharp eyes not missing the much improved mood and manner of the younger mutant before they shift over onto Pyro. Brows lifting, forehead wrinkling, it's a moment before he speaks. "And it's functional?"
Toad leaps across the room and lands to the right of the desk. He turns around, but remains squat down with his elbows resting on his thighs as he gestures to Pyro. "Givvituh go, then." Oh, he's all grins over this, but then Toad's always happy to make new means of destroying other people's property.
Well, when there's fire, John's happy. And his happiness is directly proportional to the thermal activity in the room. So with just a quick nod toward Toad, with his right hand, he gives three quick snaps, letting the flame arc up then fade as the fuel is expended. The, with the left, he gives a nice long arc from the suit, using his other hand as to mentally pull the flames around his arm like a glove, which holds even after he lets the pressure off, as he watches the flames lick his forearm, an absent smirk on his face. Then suddenly they wink out, and he looks up at the big boss. "Aye, quite functional."
It is, perhaps, fortunate that Erik's office is something like 99% metal and stone - light from the fire flickering off the surrounding rock to cast odd shadows about the room, and those in it, until the last of the flame vanishes, and Erik takes a deep breath. And a step forward, to settle at Toad's side. "Excellent work, Toad." There's a pause as he continues to watch Pyro, brows slightly knit, and then, "How does it work?"
Toad can't help but cackle while Pyro does his fire display, then nods up at Magneto once he's given his dues. "Magnesium," he replies, gesturing as he goes on. "So it won't be so simple as a splash've water t'put 'im out of ordur. Index, middle and thumb finger on each 'and 'olds the trigger mechanisms. Fingersnap for quick burst, fist clench for extended stream. The rest is up t'im, and if the tanks are ever compromised, a quick touch t'is shoulders'll drop'm away so 'e dun' catch flame. But the material's inflammable anyway." He looks up at Magneto again. "Soon as my supplier gets off 'is rear, I'll make an 'elmet of the same. 'E'll be able t'walk through 'ell then, an' the devil won't be able t'do nuttin' about it." In other words, once he gets that helmet, Pyro will be 100% fireproof. In the meantime, nifty goggles will have to do.
Pyro's already 100% fireproof. Well, as long as he's /awake/. He can't help but snap again, for pure thrill if nothing else, then lets his hands fall to his sides. Don't want to burn down the boss' office or anything. "Better'n carrying a lighter around. Runs out of fuel too fast, too easy for it to get lost." That's the technical bit. Pyro's not about to gush about how cool it is in front of him, although it's near-written on his face anyways
Magneto chuckles to himself at that, the sound of his amusement eventually dying off into considering silence as he lifts his wrist, and glances down to his watch - brows still knit. "Well, the shooting range is probably unoccupied at this hour. Shall we go set things on fire?"
Toad always believes in being prepared. That's why he carries so many knives in so many hidden places. Which reminds him... "Dun' do away with lighters all together," he says as he once again crosses the room in a single jump. This time he stands near Pyro and points to a vaguely noticeable slot on his hip. It can't really be seen now, but with the right amount of pressure applied, a nice, black and red lighter will exit from that slot and into hand's reach. One can bet there's another on the other hip, too. Just in case. "Lose the pack an' lose yohr firepower. At least to the unsuspecting." Oh yeah. He's good. At the thought of more product testing, Toad grins over his shoulder at Magneto and pulls his goggles off his eyes.
Pyro's face just lights up at that suggestion, near beaming as he slips the one of the lighters from his pocket, flicking it open just to test it out, before sliding it back in. "Ace. All prepared then." He glances back to Magneto. "I'm up for some burning if you want further demonstration." Oh, so carefully put. But it's the kid inside that's screaming JUST LET ME SET THINGS ON FIRE that really dances in his eyes at the moment.
"Good." It should come as no surprise that Erik intends to lead the way, long strides carrying him towards the door, with a nod for Toad and Pyro in passing. "I've been interested in seeing what you are capable of for some time now, anyway."
Toad follows in stride, rubbing his hands together before stuffing them in the pockets of his cargo vest. He's interested in seeing what Pyro can do, too, since his brand of fireworks might be useful to him in the future. Bombs tailor-made for a walking matchstick. That should be fun to work on for the next few weeks.
Well, Pyro's looking forward to a good show too. Heck, there's even a spring in his step as he follows his way behind the Master. Been a while since he's had a good full out fire running. Besides, there's the new suit that needs to be tested.
<> Shooting Range
Most of the walk taken in silence, with an attentive ear for any snippits of conversation he might catch along the way, Erik draws to a slow halt only once he's reached the cave in the cliff side, eyes squinted out into the darkness after a few tattered targets left hanging from earlier in the day. "Is there anything in particular you would like to see, Toad?"
Toad looks at Magneto with high brows, then at Allerdyce. "'E makes flames nice an' visual, but w'ot about smaller ones? I'm talkin' snipers, t'be flicked at precise targets." He finds himself a good rock to perch on and squats like a frog on a lilypad.
Pyro sighs slightly at that. Why does it always have to be burn the small stuff. Why can't it ever be take down the skyscraper... He nods toward Toad, and he wrinkles his brow in thought, then with a quick snap, there's a flame in his hand, which quickly forms a fiery throwing star of sorts, and he whips it across the range. The aim's not the best, it misses the far target, but at the moment, Pyro's more concerned with coordinating short flicks and sending the stars across the field. Not quite as easy as it looks, and maybe he should have picked something a little less difficult, but after the first several tries, the hand motions seem be better coordinated, and the last star actually hits the paper target across the range, sending it bursting into flame.
Magneto watches in silence, cool glare following each small firebomb with a scientific interest that doesn't fade even as a target down the field finally bursts into blame. Fine control, apparently, could use some work. "Very good. Mmm...now, for curiosity's sake, Toad - if you would take a box of live ammunition some distance down the field..."
Toad seems to look disappointed at Pyro's performance upon his request. How useful is a guy who only makes big, noisy and not very precise destructive components? He'll have to work on that to impress Toynbee. Destruction is wonderful, but even better when it's begun so subtle that no one realizes it until it's too late. As ordered, he hops from his perch and heads over to the storage shelf, taking down a box of ammo and heading towards the end of the range. It's set down underneath one of the targets that hasn't been hit by flame, then Toad returns to his perch and positions himself to watch.
Why go subtle when you can have the big flash-boom-bang? Or so goes Pyro's logic. He doesn't do small so well. Which is likely to the chagrin of mentors good and evil alike. "Ammo?"
"Mmm. It may take more sustained heat to...inspire a reaction. But the result should be interesting." Whatever. Erik just wants to see what happens, as it evident in the smug half-smile he passes off to Toad as he folds his arms neatly across his chest. "Do what you can."
Oh, Toad knows what's going to happen, which is why he returns Magneto's half-smile with an amused one and tips his goggles down over his eyes again. Popcorn would be nice right now, because there's about to be a fireworks display.
Sustained heat = BIG DAMN FIRES! Which Pyro will happily oblige. Not that he remembers to put the goggles on himself. He likes the flames. So, well, this one is going to take both hands for concentration. He presses his fingers together, a broad grin breaking on his face as the flames leap into each hand. From there, it's a simple matter to let the fires meet up in a volleyball-sized inferno, that he just watches a moment, relishing the heat on his face. Ahem, back to work. From there, the ball leaps across the range, streaking arc of fire in its wake, leaving his hands free, his face taunt as it hits the box and settles overtop of it. Sustained heat. Riiiigght.
The result is...somewhat explosive. Somewhat, as in, the air is suddenly filled with flashes of fire and bullets that tear off in every direction - ripping through leaves and into tree trunks, whizzing over the ocean, and bouncing harmlessly off the invisible barrier Erik has taken the liberty of erecting around himself, and, out of the goodness of his heart, around Toad and Pyro.
Aww. Toad always knew that he would. But just in case, he is wearing that kevlar Bella got for him long ago. Wouldn't do anything to save his head, though, which he notices a few bullets come close to bouncing off of. Toad flinches a few times, but for the most part, grins at the light show. Good stuff.
Aw, John made it go all 'splodey like. The infant-like glee falters slightly as the bullets begin to ricochet his way, but it quickly picks back up as the bounce harmlessly off the invisible wall. Because taking bullets isn't his area of specialty. Not Superman, you know. "Didn't take quite as much heat as I thought," he comments.
"Something to keep in mind for the future." Lest he accidentally trigger a reaction before he's protected and blows his own head off by mistake. The last clearly contained in a stern look that's leveled over the fainter workings of a smirk. "If there is anything else you would like to attempt, now is the time. I will produce a list for you to look over within the next few days - skills you might focus on to make your attacks more effective, in the long run. Fine focus. That sort of thing."
Toad will have a few things to add to that list. And in light of this, will most certainly be making that helmet sometime soon. Looks like it'd only take one good explosion to make Pyro and his firesuit extinct. Can't have that now can we?
Something he wants to try. Pyro nods, a quick smirk crossing his face. With a few long paces, he places a bit of distance between him and the others. A few quick motions and he throws a ring of fire around his feet, giving it additional heat and size as it creeps up his legs and passes his waist. The blaze leaps up over his head, and through the flames, one might be able to see him putting on the goggles to help avoid the smoke. He lets it burn hot for a moment, the cylindrical inferno towering surrounding him, then with a forced motion visible in his strained face, it vanishes. Okay, that took some effort. Must- not- stagger back to the others. He walks as evenly as he can, holding out his arms and examining the suit for burn marks. His face and hair seem fine except a few soot marks, as does the suit. "Nice work, mate," he offers to Toad.
Magneto's eyes narrow slightly - the lack of any damage to Pyro's flesh drawing his attention more immediately than the lack of damage to the suit, impressive though it might be. Also, it's a little hard to see with the after effects of the fire still dazzling through his line of sight, so he could simply be imagining things. "You are actually physically impervius to fire." Tsk, Charles, you silly man, not keeping closer tabs on scraps like these. "Interesting. And - again, excellent work. Both of you."
Toad chuffs and rolls his eyes behind his goggles. Like he wouldn't set that suit on fire himself to make sure it wouldn't burn. But what's this? The boy doesn't lose any skin? Well, he'll still get the helmet one day. Concussions and burning are two completely different things that can originate from the same source. Toynbee hops to a stand and nods, ready to take off once Magneto does. "Bring it t'me when it gets damaged or empty," he says to Pyro. "An' 'ave a good excuse for the damage."
"Eh, sort of," Pyro admits somewhat reluctantly. He's not /invincible/. "I've gotten burned before... when I wasn't paying attention. Think I have to be /using/ the fire..." Toad's admonishment is hardly needed. At least for the first days. Pyro'll treat this thing like it's solid gold. "Will do. Thanks for the help."
Magneto nods slowly at the increase in detail related to his observation, faint scowl carefully considering as he looks the boy over, and finally turns to start back in the direction they arrived out of. "We'll find good use for it, I'm sure."
Toad follows suit. Enjoy your present, Mr. Allerdyce. It's the kind of hazardous toys you get for abandoning society and a peaceful means of co-existence.
Oh, enjoy it he surely will. Not necessarily being summoned back inside, Pyro simply nods after the others. "I... think I'll stay out and practice a bit longer." Suuuuuuuuuure.
"Work on what Toad suggested you do at the beginning - focusing upon aim, and minimum effort for maximum result." Erik returns to that, not turning back around at Pyro's words. And then, more quietly to Toad, "I want you out here again in two hours to make certain that he hasn't driven himself into the ground."
Toad smirks and nods. Let the boy wear himself and his ammo out for a while. He's got plenty more in storage, and the proper dry extinguishers to put him out just in case he does get stupid.
Pyro's caught up in the moment, now, and a few quick snaps and he has flames racing up his arms again, sending out a few more flashy bursts of fire before settling down into some of the more tedious small work. Yeah, someone's going to sleep well tonight.
<> Infirmary - Lv1
Well, word gets around fast enough, at least when you're looking for someone, as Pyro has been the last bit. He appears in the doorway to the infirmary, slipping in and leaning against the wall. "You look like you could be feeling a mite better," he comments.
The almost motionless form of Padraig lies face-down on one of the beds, thick strapping (with a few red spots) now covering his entire upper torso, and his blood-stained clothes lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He's only wearing a pair of black sports shorts. Slowly his head turns to face the door, a little wince forced onto his features. Groggy eyes focus on the younger mutant. "Just a bit. Seems the boss is in a foul mood today." Ironic humour trickles into his tone, despite the obviously painful breathing.
"So I gathered. I'll be sure to stay out of his way," Pyro notes, shuffling across the room and pulling up a chair. "Feel like company, or just want to sleep?"
"Company's good." Padraig mutters, slowly lifting his arms and pushing himself to a higher position with a growling exclamation of pain. Eventually he makes it to the top, and suddenly twists to settle himself in a seated position on the bed, teeth gritted. Once he's ceased moving, an explosion of air rips from his lungs. "There. How's it going?"
"Alright then," Pyro nods, kicking his feet up and propping them on the edge of the bedframe. "Would that I had healing in my arsenal. Might even risk a bit of wrath if you'd still play sick. Anyways, been wanting to take you out to the range to show off my new toys, but guessin today's not the day for that."
Padraig lifts an eyebrow in interest. "New toys? I can manage a trip out; pumped up on painkillers enough." Backtracking, he grins. "I'm hoping the boss sends a message saying I can get healed or something. Don't think I did anything to piss him off other than exist." A shrug lifts his shoulders, and brings alittle wince. A sudden, sharp movement skips him up off the bed and to his feet, only slightly unsteady.
"Not sure if I should toss you a shirt or shove you back in bed, mate," Pyro says, pulling himself out of bed. "You don't look like you can take two steps, let alone make it out there and back."
"Shirt." Padraig assures. "No shoving, unless you want me to get pissed." Good natured is the threat, and he manages a trademark grin. "Actually, no shirt. It'll just hurt, and it's not too cold. I'm fine. Let's move." A lie, and an obvious one, but he does seem steady on his feet.
"Fine, then," Pyro shrugs, not about to argue. Because there's someone else he gets to show off now for. "Gotta stop by my dorm quick then. Just be a moment. You want to meet me there or come with?"
Padraig offers a slow nod. "Meet you there. I'll be moving slower than you." He glances down to the bloodstained clothing, including the red, metallic glint of his uniform. "Could you take my gear and dump it through my door?" A real question, even if he has begun to walk already, experimentally taking steps.
Pyro bends over to scoop up the uniform without more than a quick nod, then he slips past Padraig, hurrying through the corridors for the dorms.
<> Shooting Range
Padraig is the first to arrive, despite his injuries making a reasonale pace once he's found a way of walking without muttering a pained curse between each breath. He's found himself somewhere to perch where he can see the range as he awaits his fiery friend.
Well, that's because John's had to undress and worm his way into his new suit. It's comfortable enough, but anything as formfitting as a uniform just takes a few more minutes than tossing jeans and shirt on. He makes his way down to the range, an unmistakably pleased look on his face as he enters the range. "Hola! What'd ya think?" he asks, slowly giving a mock spin.
Padraig breaks into a broad grin. "Looking good, dearest Pyro. Not as fine as me in mine, but I'll allow you to run by my side." A rich chuckles rips from him. "So why do we need to be here for you to show me?" A vaguely knowing eyebrow is raised, but he's just checking.
Pyro winks quickly, letting a small smirk cross his face as he holds out a hand and with a quick snap, lets the flame erupt at his fingertips. That he's been practicing, and it's easy enough to catch hold of and he molds the fire into a ball that he tosses up, letting it fall back into his waiting palm. "Because I'd be even longer in the infirm if I caught the place on fire."
Padraig tips his head back and releases a bark of laughter, cutting off only when it hurts. "Shit, man. Nice trick. Guess you've got tiny little sparkers and gas in the suit, right?" Eyes flicker to follow the ball of fire. "Love it. Let's see how accurate you are."
"Toad put it together. Magnesium fire, ignites when it hits the air. Good burn until it's consumed. Goodly supply in these pockets," Pyro says, reaching around his side to trace the linings on his back. "It's light, pretty hard to cut through, and enough supply for any mission and then some. Suit won't burn neither, no matter how close I get to the fire." His eyes dance with that. Apparantly, /that/ aspect has been thoroughly tested already. "Whatcha have in mind?"
"Well," Padraig begins, gesturing vaguely towards the appropriate things. "There's target you can set up, and I guess as long as you don't melt the metal holding the place together, you can aim for them." The rest of the explanation is nodded at. "But obviously, poor, broken me is incapable of setting them up." Grin.
Pyro rolls his eyes at the other. "Yeah, I can see you're not going to be all healed up for a looong time, right?" he says, tromping across the field and heaving the target into place. A few minutes later, he strides back. "Remind me to get sick someday when you're around, alright then?"
"I can envisage being injured for at least four months." Drifts amusedly after Pyro's retreating form, and he's met by a well-humoured smirk on his return. "I don't do sympathy. It doesn't suit me. Now, let's see you obliterate that target."
"Then remind me to at least die a messy death someday and leave it to you to clean up," Pyro says on his return, giving a quick two-fingered salute in jest. He turns about to face the target, with a quick pressure in each hand, the flames engulf both arms up to the elbows. He quickly settles his feet into place, and wall of fire leaps toward the ground, rolling toward the target in a fiery wave. The metal passes through it with mere scorch marks, although the paper target is now no more. "Damn," he mutters, scowling as he extinguishes the fire.
"Pyro." Padraig notes, "Die a horribly messy death. Just make sure I'm not around." Hands come together in applause for the use of his power, eyes widening a little for a moment. "Nice." he murmurs, before raising his voice to its normal level. "Very impressive. Guess you're itching to use it on a mission?"
"Looks good, but not what I was aiming for," Pyro says, making his way over to lean against the wall and glancing up at the other recruit. "Was trying to knock it over altogether. Sometimes I can get it to go solid-like, sometimes I can't. But yeah, a mission would be ace right about now."
Padraig chuckles, a flicker across his face appearing at the movement. "Solid? Now /that/ would be a trick. Anyway," His tone becomes a little more bantering and teasing, "Just be happy that you can burn stuff. I've not heard about any missions in the works." Knuckles flex and get cracked. "I'm itching for action myself."
Pyro brow furrows, partly in concentration, partly in frustration, and with a quick snap, he again holds a baseball sized ball of fire, which after a moment's intent glaring, he whips across the range toward the target. It hits with a solid thud, sending a metallic ringing across the area as the fire blinks out of existence. "Solid," he repeats, letting the held breath whistle through his teeth. "Action, yeah. Although, have to say in a couple months I've done more than the past two /years/ with...them."
Padraig says, "Solid fire..." Padraig murmurs, staring long after the ball has vanished. "I'm glad you're on our side, man." he assures, distractedly pondering his own chances of hitting that target from his current position. "We'll get to play soon, I hope. I get antsy without something to do." His head snaps around, a grin forming on his lips again as he switches to a more manly subject. "Anyways, you found yourself a hot woman around here yet? There's plenty to pick from."
Now give him a /real/ baseball that he has no mental control over and watch Pyro try to hit that target. o.^ "Yeah, training's great, but want to put it to /use/." At the last question, he snickers slightly. "Well, of the recruits, seems they're either taken or not interested. No desire to cross /you/. Or Chrome. Heck, douse me with water, and any guy here could probably kick my ass."
Padraig's response is typically dry. "I'd lend you Amara, but I don't think she's into little weeds." An amused glance is quirked up at the pyrokinetic. "Water screws you?" is inquired with mild interest, before a real twinkle glints within his eye. "In fact, how /do/ you stay so skinny and weedy, despite the training I put you through? It must be some sort of record."
Pyro lifts an eyebrow, staring at him a moment. "Funny guy, you are," he comments dryly before returning to the first question. "You didn't see me after the breakout, did you? Yeah, kinda hard to keep a flame going when you've got water pouring over you. And I dunno, bad genes, I suppose. The /other/ genes, of course," he smirks slightly. "Between training with you and Toxin, feel like I'm hungry all the time. Eating, but just not gaining much weight. Okay, /any/ weight," he quickly qualifies before the other can comment.
"Have to be wary of that." Padraig notes, filing it away. "Don't want you sputtering out on me at a vital moment." Seriousness lasts all of a good three seconds, before he's grinning again. "'Training' with Toxin, eh? And you say you're not getting any? Have you met Derek? Maybe we should get you on protein shakes and high-carb stuff, to let you bulk up a bit. Or at least give you some muscle to look good." Smirk.
"Eh, I don't think /she/ goes for 'weeds' either," John says, obviously mocking the term. Read: Stop making fun of me!!! He shrugs. "Guess it couldn't hurt to try it. But yeah, doesn't /seem/ that I'm lifting or running or whatever enough to burn off everything. Seems I'm making a sandwich every night now before I get to sleep."
Oh, please. Trying to get Padraig to stop ripping into someone? The Irish rogue chuckles. "Dunno. Some women have odd tastes." Then there's a thoughtful look crossing his face, at least for a moment. "It's probably your powers, using 'em more, you know? If you're not gaining the muscle, you're not getting enough energy in you. I live on pure crap, to keep me going. Have you ever noticed being especially hungry after doing the firey-death thing?"
"'Bout the same as when /you/ get done with me in the gym," Pyro nods. "Which is to say starving half the time. 'Firey-death thing.' I might have to use that sometime," he adds, filing the thought away.
"My advice is to keep eating, whenever you're hungry. Bananas, bacon, high fat crap. If you start getting chubby, we can put you on a diet." Padraig beams a smile at Pyro, unable to shrug as he is. "And we'll get someone to get in some 'beefcake' stuff. Gotta love South Park." Complete tangent. Another specialty, especially when slightly spaced from painkillers. "Firey death suits it. Remember what I said? You're the king of fear around here."
"Well give it a go, then," Pyro says agreeably. "Afraid of fire. Can't ever remember being that. Even before I realized what I was. Guess must've known subconsciously or something. Either that or just was always a daredevil at heart."
"Send a fireball at my face, and even I'll flinch." Padraig admits quietly. "Like if I sent a bolt at your feet, you'd jump away. Certain things are practically genetically fear-inducing." Shrug. Wince. "Ow. Damnit. Daredevil. Heh. We'll blindfold you and send you out to battle evil." A vaguely fuzzy-eyed smirk is delivered, as Padraig sharply shakes his head. "God knows what they've given me."
"Yeah, well, just glad I'm able to keep it on the inside without any effort. Hey, you doing alright?" Pyro asks, slight concern there despite the banter. "Need to head back in?"
"Er, feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. Think the painkillers have kicked in. God knows what they've given me." Padraig skips to his feet, somewhat groggily forced to use a nearby wall for balance. "Damnit. Yes. Infirmary."
"That's supposed to be a /good/ thing," Pyro smirks, falling into step beside Padraig. "Yeah, don't fall over. Don't know if this weed'll be able to hold you up."
Padraig forces himself off the wall, and automatically begins to use Pyro for balance, managing to pull his power from his hand. "Not a good thing, feeling this fuzzy. Let's just hope we don't run into Creed on the way back up. Thanks for showing me your toy, though." And he begins to head back towards the complex properly, making a reasonable, if somewhat unsteady, pace.
"Hah, like I needed an excuse to do /that/," Pyro says, watching the other's step as they retreat to the infirmary. "Pretty sure you'll get sick of hearing about it before long."
"Remind me to show you my new toy." Padraig notes. "Schord." He's beginning to slur slightly, though his feet are still under him. "Guess I should have listened to the techs. Nice toy. Training have to be stopped for a while. Solo it." Disjointed sentences take him back towards the infirmary, which is blissfully not far away.