His arm. The hell it was. As much as he'd put it to use, he hadn't let himself think for a moment that the thing was his. Or that it had belonged to who the last doctor had claimed. A copy, or some magic. He didn't know and didn't care. The thing was useful, that was it, but it wasn't his.

And like hell he was going to talk to her about it. He cared nothing for whatever "perspective" nonsense any one of Landel's underlings wanted to spout at him.

"Whatever you're going to do, just get it done with," he spat, uninterested in playing along with her.