Silence is all that Riley gets in return, but it's a pregnant silence. Albert is still there, twofold in a body that refuses to be his and a mind that rails against that fact. The silence to Albert is full of screaming, full of clawing at scrolling text that he can't stop from moving through his vision, readouts of his physical systems that do nothing to represent the mind that's supposed to be piloting the body. He's been severed, decapitated without the grisly mess.

But the captive's demands for attention don't go unnoticed. He tries to latch onto them, to build back that connection through his senses. Hearing. He can hear him. Sight. He can see him too, bag over his head and chained to the wall. Albert can only pray that the man keeps talking, keeps the banter going one sided in the hopes for an answer so he can use it as a lifeline.