"Assumptions were made." He slumps against the wall, grimacing. He used to be good at this shit. What the he'll happened? First matter. "Won't happen again."

Whatever conclusion he'd come to had been five kinds of wrong, again. Story of his life. "I'll get."

Because the only recourse now is to bail. Locus needs this space more than he does; he can hang back at his habitat or do monitor duty or- anything but go back in that room m