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Her words cut through his mind like a knife. "You know, it isn't your fault," she says through meows. Unfortunately, the knife is dull and barely make much of a dent.
Pest's breathing halts briefly and he shrugs. He looks away from her, staring into the wooden walls as it gives way to a new image in the elevator. He never bothers to respond to these sorts of comforts from others, as few and far between as they are—because they're not right. They've never been right.
The only time Pest shuts up is when he finds the conversation meaningless and his response irrelevant. He usually has something to say to DrRETRO, as he finds her existence tolerable enough (and maybe even pleasant) to chat with, but today? Nothing; he says nothing, not until the elevator dings, and the doors give way to their location.
"Let's go," is all he spares. His voice is strained, like he wants to say more or perhaps there were emotions, but he already has one foot out the elevator. She follows after him. Everyday he's been chasing after his own mistakes, trying to figure out how to get rid of the thing now that it's out. The thing was confined to him, once. He can force it back in somehow.
They are meant to meet someone here—someone who could help with their investigation—but the area proved to be eerily quiet. Rather than signs of life, there sits a TV on the stage, broken… and clearly meant to be attached to a body. He can tell with the way there is blood pulled around it. Despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior, this is the first time Pest has seen a dead body, even if it's just of a machine. Even if he had seen a dead body before, this feels… unique and intimate, in a way. He can't look away even if he wants to so badly. The blood is dry, leaving a stale stench in the air.
He finally manages to pry his eyes off, finally registering DrRETRO in the room. His head hurts and his heart pounds against his chest with wild abandon. "What are we going to do?" he asks.
"We need to take her to Mozelle," DrRETRO says, her eyes trained on the TV in the same way. Her mouth moves, but the rest of her body stays completely frozen.
Pest swallows dryly. Lugging around a dead body isn't exactly how he expected to spend his afternoon, but so be it. It's his fault anyway.