Kota, no. Look at him.
Yeah, well, you never know.
She picks up the steel baseball bat and gets up.
Just in case.
“W-wha. Eyyyyy. Ain’t looking forrrr no fight, yeahhh?”
“Hands. Show them; both of them.”
He complies, raising his other arm to reveal a worn down—empty-handed—cybernetic. It’s a wonder it still works. ‘Works’ might be an overstatement. The arm looks like it hasn’t managed to pick anything up in a decade, if ever.
“Now uhh. Ey, ‘bout that can.”
> “Zap off.”
> *Toss him the can*