He gave a weak, sardonic chuckle, scowling at the dusty floor by his feet. Part of him wanted to make a crack at Yoshimi for attempting to help him, but frankly Dustin was more concerned to have her company than her advice.

“Yeah, I do…” he muttered, kneading his temple experimentally, “It’s like…this noise, this constant static ringing in my ears, like…like my brain’s working, but I’m not getting a signal.”

Dustin was rambling—this was bad. “You know what I mean, right?”