“Ay dios mío,” Miguel groaned loudly into the palm of his hand, reaching up to pinch the skin between his brows in irritation as he waved Lyla away once more, “I’m busy, Lyla! And you-“

He turned to face you, his lips curled into a snarl as he spoke, “We can’t do that, ¿lo entiendes?”

However, throughout his aggressive ministrations, he failed to notice Lyla’s garbled warnings, nor the dimming screens. Most importantly, he failed to notice the way his suit flickered and began to dissipate.