He'd left his door open to listen to the hall better. He wasn't doing anything particularly private, like rolling in the cooing pile of tribbles that sat in the middle of the otherwise pristine floor. Psii heard that telltale sing-song dichotomy of talking plus shouting a mile off. He jumped out of his seat, fought down the instinct to panic at a Subjugglator marching up to his block, got angry at himself for being scared, but decided to keep his grip on a hefty library book on herbs.

"What the fuck are you doing humping my door you pan-addled clown shitthuck—SS?" He lowered his arm. "What are you doing here?"

Well, he needed to talk to Signless anyway, but he didn't expect it to be with a clown at his door calling for the same thing. Funnily enough, that clown had been the one to tell Psii that Signless pitied him in some manner. Psii hadn't wanted to confront Signless, but even so, he couldn't wait. Signless needed Psii at his best, and he felt the only way he could be that was to be straight with him. Psii felt being brutally honest was a staple of their friendship.

He just hoped the clown outside wouldn't burst into his block on a murderous rampage because Psii was somehow in the way of his pity party. That would suck globes.