Closest door slams. His first reaction is to start, old Avoxing bits keeping him jumpy. The next is to make a strangled noise of frustration, hands going up and claws dragging through his hair until they get on close toward his face-- the old Alternian rage struggling not to rear up.

And then finally comes the exhaustion, the middle ground between the two like the drop in a canyon, the fissure born of the two sides having once been forced together despite their resistance.

He wishes he hadn't bothered. He doesn't know why he thought he could fix anything. He guesses it's just his turn to make stupid decisions about ex-moirails.

"AIGHT, I'M GOING," He says. He shoots Signless a brief glance. "Sorry, Kankri."