"Every tier seems to have its own type. Maybe it's all just a big expirement." He drawls that out a little hatefully, remembering oh so well what it was like to be a labrat. The bitterness is most definitely there.

"It's in our heads down here," he finally says, and makes a motion around his head.

"I'm a little psychically sensitive." He makes an eensy space between his fingers, though he's considerably more than that. "I can't tell where they're coming from, but if I'm monitoring someone-" psychically linked to them "-I feel something... change. If that makes sense."