"I've got two people in mind for sure." They look out over the mushroom cap forest and the void beyond. "One dame named Misty, from Beacon. She was." They dredge up a wistful smile. "I made her my handler for months, poor gal, until I realized I didn't need handlers anymore. She didn't even know what that meant, not really, but she helped me, and we turned into friends, instead. She's. She's important to me."

They lace metal and flesh fingers together, toying with the metal thumb, a very small fidget. "If she's still there. If she didn't die with the world. She's probably worried sick. I just want to make sure she knows I'm okay, and she can. Move on, if she can. Go home, maybe. Not blame herself, thinking I died or something."