"I should've told you to leave them," Castor says, stricken. He's playing with something around his throat: the curlicue twine of silver metal was his symbol, probably, when he was alive."I'm sorry."

Ze're fucked. He doesn't have to say anything: ze can hear the buzzing of the drones, and ze feels like crying. Ze're fucked, and ze're going to die.

Ze wishes Castor wasn't dead, because ze really wants a hug right now. Zir throat hitches and ze whines, as zir centispidermom stirs from her sleep and starts worriedly twining up zir throat.