Phanan didn't like touching him with his prosthetic hand, Face had discovered over the course of the night, although he didn't know if his wingmate was even conscious of that fact. It was like he didn't want to process sensation and warmth with something that had been programed to feel those things but never actually could. He'd steered Face away from the artificial leg, too, like it didn't exist and he didn't want to think about it. Face was beginning to suspect that that drunken, depressed rant earlier that night had only just scratched the surfaces of Phanan's problems
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