The smirk on Lindsey's face was pretty telling of the fact that he was not entirely intact. He had his hand back, sure. But human sacrifices before reviews? Meetings with mind readers in 'em to make sure you weren't going to the competition? Co-workers getting shot, while standing right next to you?
Those things left a mark. 'Jaded' wasn't the word. It was just the easiest to slap onto how he felt.
He took the mug and refilled it, sliding it back, silver bracelet jingling against the cup. The little line of scar tissue was showing, just barely, underneath it.
And... underneath?
"Mostly. Least today I got to keep my heart," Lindsey said.
She was still offering to help. Either he was dead or he was doing something right. "If it's gonna draw attention to you," he said, and really he meant if it'd draw attention to his location, too, "don't do it."