Sigma seizes his new cup of coffee and stares into it quietly, drumming his fingers nervously around the rim, his delicious breakfast almost forgotten. "...I see. I am very sorry, Clara..." He hadn't meant to insult her- he liked Clara- and is quite ashamed of his behavior. Unfortunately, Sigma does not know when to leave well enough alone: he clears his throat and tries to salvage the situation.

"...At one point I, too, received cybernetics against my will. Even if my 'quality of life' improved, well..." He hesitates, wondering how to articulate his feelings so they might sound sincere. Personal conversations were not his strong suit. "Having some agency in the choice would have been important to me. It took me a very long time to think of my 'enhancements' as a part of my own body. It is not a comfortable feeling." His eyes occasionally dart up to see how Clara is taking his thoughts, but he loses the nerve before he can process her expression and goes back to watching his coffee swirl about the mug. He swallows. "It is not exactly a good time, but if you ever wanted someone to talk to..." As if she would ever take him up on the offer, pro-Capitolian that he was.