“…look, I can understand the idea that you're piloting a walker made of meat, believe me, especially for a shapeshifter. Hell, I was under that misapprehension for…”

Whatever Deedee was going to say about how she knows that feeling dies, strangled in her throat. How the fuck can she explain years of dismorphia before getting plugged into her Assigned Female At Character Creation body from Mundus to a stranger? How could someone who survived the Screaming Twenties in America dare admit it to a stranger?

“…just keep in mind you don’t have an eject button, okay? Sheesh, I’m not even sure why I’m getting this worried about you.”