[What the fuck? One minute this guy's practically saying he's going to fight him, demanding he put down his weapon, and the next he's insisting he doesn't want to fight? And what's this "I don't want to hurt you" bullshit? As if he thinks that's a guarantee.

Dude's got one arm and looks sick (at least when Charles can see him through the static). The hell's he gonna do?]

Fine. If you're not gonna hurt me, and you don't wanna fight, then what's the problem? I always carry this. I'm not just gonna put it down, not when there's some thing in here that we can't see, putting eyes on shit. But I don't go attacking people without a reason, dude.

[God, he hates even listening to himself. He sounds so fucking nuts. He's breathing a little easier, just a little. But something's still bothering him.]

Did your arm come off because it's removable? Like a prosthetic?

[Only way he wouldn't be dead is if he lost it before he came here. Back when he might've had access to actual medical technology.]