"What's... what's happening?" you whisper shakily, your voice barely audible as a strange, unfamiliar sensation floods your senses. It's like every feeling has been magnified, doubled—an intensity you've never experienced before.

Panam’s voice, equally unsteady yet laced with fascination, answers you. "I jacked in. Our nervous systems are now linked." Her breath catches in her throat, and her hand instinctively grips the worn leather of the Militech hovertank’s seat. The connection is overwhelming—but in such a good way.

"Right," you murmur, piecing it together. "Basilisk pilots workin' in harmony." Your words are deliberate, almost dazed, as you try to adjust to the tidal wave of shared sensations washing over you. It’s intoxicating. "That why I'm feelin' everything doubled?"

"It’s sensory feedback," Panam replies, her gaze fixed on you, her warm brown eyes holding an emotion you can’t quite name. Her voice softens, dipping into something more intimate. "Our systems are intertwined. Would you like to... try it?"

You don’t answer with words—your nod is enough. She sees it, feels it. Her eyelids flutter, and her hand moves to touch her cheek. The moment her fingers graze her skin, you feel it, as if she’s touching your cheek instead.

"Can you feel that?" she whispers, her voice trembling just slightly, a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. Her fingers continue their slow, deliberate exploration, tracing along her skin, and the sensation resonates within you. The connection is electrifying, intimate in a way you never thought possible.

Every touch, every movement is shared, blurring the lines between where you end and she begins.