She promised. She's proud. She can see, and she's watched him and words, words, words, that leave Rinzler tense and coiled and waiting for the but. She'd done her best, (but he needed to return that). She wanted to talk, (but not like this, not to him). The terms don't come, not the way he'd expected, but her speech is peppered with conditionals, and he doesn't know how many work.

He doesn't know what counts as progress. He isn't sure if he's made any, much less what reverting might do on that count. Is she asking him to run the calculation? Certainly the base value doesn't seem to hold. He doesn't know what to feel, so she can't agree?

It matches the words, but not the tone. Rinzler stares, lights dim and frame stalled, as she reaches out carefully, a gentle nudge. He doesn't dare (doesn't deserve) to return the gesture, but after a beat, he will recall the TAB display.

Don't know.

Don't want to.

He doesn't, and he won't, and that's his fault, that Yori will never have the counterpart she loved again. How can she possibly accept that?