"It's like anything else. They think it's a joke, at first. Then they get in the arena and then they get scared. You either break down right away, or after a few months, or you find another way to cope," another sip, the silence made measuring, while Shepard's hands worked on the screen that she'd propped on her knees, repossessed from Natasha's hands.

"Alcoholism's a popular route. Just don't get too ambitious about it— have you met an Avox yet? The, uh..." She trailed off for a moment, and her typing petered out, then resumed, "... The mutes?"