"Yeah." She sighs and rolls up her sleeve, pressing open the panel in her forearm. She stares dolefully at the fried tech inside, then looks up at him. He's eager as hell to move on and she can't blame him, so she just sips more of her bourbon-coffee. "We'd need to clean all this out and replace all of it. I mean, we could probably get the limb working again, like an arm, you know, but the other stuff..."

Ugh. She turns away, staring at the window. Let him work on it as much as he wants. She can keep her depressing commentary to herself for a while, surely.