It is Vargas Loving Hours!

"You ought to keep them," said with no real energy, almost like he was passing off something that he had no use for, as if offering her some spare lint he'd found in his pocket. "How often do you get the chance to sandbox with half-formed code?"

"Like I want more work in my already-scarce free time," with a heavy sigh, though her eyes lit with slight energy under her ever-present furrowed brow as she looked between them. Her attention snapped back to him and she retorted to what must have been an imagined reply, as he hadn't even opened his mouth. "I already do more than some people," pointedly.

He gave a shrug with one shoulder, his eyes dismissively closed. Just as quickly as she'd snapped at him, her attention turned back to Edgar and Scriabin, thumb worried against her chin in thought.

"The proposed reset would pose a problem," not to them, not even at them - around them, like they were baubles, display objects. D shrugged again.

"You can send that one back when you're done," with a brief gesture towards Edgar. "Not like anyone's going to notice." He turned to her, eyes still tiredly bored. "You can thank us for that."

"I won't be thanking you for anything," sharp and biting, but carelessly, like it was out of habit. She just kept staring through Scriabin, even as he huddled closer behind Edgar's shoulder. "And it's not like he's going to live long anyway, doesn't really matter what state I return him in..."

"Exactly," though she didn't react, which didn't seem to bother him.

"Excuse me," they both turned to look at Edgar, almost as if seeing him for the first time again, surprised that he could speak at all. "But I can hear you," with a hint of unkindness, and he felt Scriabin's grip tighten on him. They were speaking so plainly of leaving him dead, as well as performing some manner of unknown horrors on the two of them, right in front of them. It was starting to grate on his nerves. Johnny threatening him was one thing, but these people seemed far too present for insanity to qualify as an excuse.

She raised an eyebrow at him, otherwise unmoving from her thoughtful pose and irritated expression.