The glass cracks on impact, fracturing, glitching as the lights go out -- and then Nick is alone, even the glow of his eyes swallowed in the darkness of the mindscape. Safronov breaks the silence only moments later as the door to the cell opens, and though the dim illumination from the threshold shows him the way, Nick remains still, steeling himself against his own memories so that he may face what's to come. Neither he nor Rey has lived a carefree life; as for what horrors their combined memories could form, he can only guess.

And Saf's mention of hardware limitations only serves to remind him just how different he and Rey can be, despite all the commonalities they've found within the city, bonds that pulled them together as the closest thing to a family that either of them may ever have. Nick brings his hand from the wall down to his side, pulling in a breath. It's not often that he loses his cool, but when he does, it at least tells Nick that he has some humanity within him somewhere, despite his artificial frame. He's not just a machine; he's not just another synth. He has an identity, even if it's a borrowed one.

And Rey does, as well. She may have had a lot of lives copied into her grey matter, but she'll always be Rey to Nick.

"You gonna tell me what the problem is?" Nick asks as he starts for the door.