[Fuck him. Let him die and burn because he shouldn't be able to reach into his heart like this, pluck at the strings until they're screeching. The Psiioniic's entire body shakes when he takes a breath, and he reaches over, fingers trembling against his fin.]

I love you. You make my heart ache, you bathtard. I'm not leaving becauthe of you. I'm leaving becauthe...

[Another deer noise, but this one is small and frustrated and miserable.]

Have you ever... ever... been in a thituation you thought wath hopeleth, that you couldn't change... and then one day you could?