From the holes in his armor to the holes in his skin, york had been and is still a mess. But wires aside... He hadn't changed. The empty node on the nape of his neck is where he'd been hung by those wires. Where the strings come from.

In locus' hand, the blinking slows. Detatched from york's mind he is, technically, free of the box cortana made for hi. Enough to force out a quizzical bit of code- a holographic question mark now that he's got it online.