[As Sayo careens through her explanation of herself, and her self's complications, Paul crouches by one of the growing shallow puddles of blood on the floor. He dips two gloved fingers into it and brings them to his contemplative eye level. The smell of it pervades the room already, but he brings his fingers closer and breathes it in, sifting through the layers of metal and salt and biomarkers for anything unusual. Unusual for the blood of this place, at least.]

Sayo doesn't have to talk about that if she doesn't want to, Kaworu.

[She wants to, or some part of her does. Paul can tell that much. It might be better if she does, instead of continuing with the barely veiled barb about defanged counsel going unheeded - a barb that somehow doesn't seem directed at Paul, which makes him look up, glancing between the shattered smirk on Sayo's mouth and the uncertain twist on Kaworu's.]

We can talk about all of that when we make it back to the surface, if you do want to. [They're not going to listen.] And don't call me that.

[The blood doesn't even taste strange when he touches the tip of his tongue to it. Mildly gritty with cave dust, but otherwise - nothing.]