[ Wash does entirely expect some kind of refusal on grounds of possibility of murder, and while he's a little surprised he doesn't react too much. He waves Byerly closer to where he's still seated on those gnarled tree roots, moving a hand to the back of his own neck, jostling the chain of the tags he wears around his neck slightly. He leans forward, gesturing Byerly over, pushing aside some of his hair. It's not entirely hidden, Byerly might've noticed it before, but he's giving him a good chance to get a proper look, now.
There's metal, there. An implant, an interface, embedded his skin right at the base of his skull, something that looks not quite just like something was put in, but also looks like it was designed for external access. Lightning-forks of scarring spread out from it, white and faded from age but still noticeable, elaborate and extensive in the way they spread out from the implant down the back of his neck over the back of his shoulders, and it's clear they extend further down his back too under his clothing. ]
Any guesses? [ Surprising lightness, to his tone. Obviously not something Byerly's going to be able to guess, but try him, won't you. He'll tell you the answer. Or some of it. Something answer-shaped. ]
no subject
There's metal, there. An implant, an interface, embedded his skin right at the base of his skull, something that looks not quite just like something was put in, but also looks like it was designed for external access. Lightning-forks of scarring spread out from it, white and faded from age but still noticeable, elaborate and extensive in the way they spread out from the implant down the back of his neck over the back of his shoulders, and it's clear they extend further down his back too under his clothing. ]
Any guesses? [ Surprising lightness, to his tone. Obviously not something Byerly's going to be able to guess, but try him, won't you. He'll tell you the answer. Or some of it. Something answer-shaped. ]