The grip on his shoulders feels ghostly familiar, and for a moment he feels like that punk kid in Blackwatch again getting a lecture from his commander. He shakes his head slightly- snap out of it- and tries to take a breath that doesn't shake.

"The, uh, the shards, right? Well, don't exactly feel like partnerin' up." He grips tightly to the one in his left fist, as if the memories will flood back in if he lets go. The ghostly figures made of smoke around him waver, strengthen, spirits haunting him with his pain.

"So if you'll excuse me..."