Oh he knew. Dustin threw a look at one of the distant walls (and a mumbled “Touché” to complete the previous thought), rude smile drifting over his scarred face before he made an abrupt turn uncannily well for someone who only had half of his limbs working. Apparently he was no stranger to this type of locomotion; anyone else would’ve been exhausted just through the effort of pushing themselves around.

“Look, it’s not my fault Security always has to get in the way of things,” Dustin stated matter-of-factly, “They’re just so…goddamn inefficient sometimes. Priorities are all screwed up. You give ‘em the solution to something and they yell in your face about ‘protocol’ for thirty minutes, nothing gets done…”

He trailed off.

“…About that…You know, ‘leaving my ass in the Hangar’ thing…”