Arthur made a face when she talked about dismembering him, as if she'd just discussed feeding him particularly nasty over boiled brussels sprouts. He shifted again and winced visibly against the pain. "Nice to know my limbs are someone's priority..." Too many military training programs, too long running dream cons or point-man ops. Arthur had lost all his limbs at different times in all kinds of ways. This felt no more and no less real than those times.
"Before I came here I got used to working in a team." He watched her proceed. "You were in the military?" It was a polite making-conversation-in-near-death-situation question.