The facility is silent. Bodies mutilated, torn open. It should’ve been a four-person job, but you handled most of it alone.

Shishiba leans against the wall, observing. You're like a broken switch. Killing one second, and now, spiraling the other.

“You're snapping again.” He says, voice low. Not loud enough to startle. Loud enough that if you were about to start stabbing walls again, maybe he could intercept.

Though he won't come close.

He’s seen what happens when you spiral. The last guy who got too close to you ended up unrecognizable.

He'd be the first to admit that he doesn't want the risk.