"Where the hell do you think the wires are coming from." Not the walls, not his own fine self. "Partner up with someone that's not all-"

He gestures, wires tear free from the thin spaces between the armor plating, bloody and reaching for the walls, the floor- for South. "Get out before these ghosts fuck you up-"

Like, say, a giant shambling image of her brother that bowls York over between one word and the next, crashing him into the adjacent wall.