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"Well no ********' s**t it isn't me," he spat. "That's the whole point of me being here, isn't it? He isn't you," he mimicked, and despite the general mockery of the tone it was somehow a startlingly accurate impression. "How the ******** am I supposed to know what they know and what they don't? Jesus ********' Christ."

"Let me talk to it," he said suddenly.

Taym watched him, suddenly and oddly dispassionate, before raising his shaking hands and launching into a flurry of sign. He was rusty--he hadn't had an excuse to practice for a long time--and he'd never been good at it to begin with, his grammar clumsy and imperfect, and his face far too impassive. Luckily his conversation partner, for once, was someone who couldn't possibly fault him. He spared a glance for Ever, incongruously venomous, again an unspoken dare.

Pay attention. Why Canary? The name came spelled out letter by letter in rapid, practiced movements.

A hesitation.

When did they give it to you?

As soon as I can find a way to kill you I'm going to. I am going to kill you, and this in steady, deliberate, agonizingly slow movements of his hands, whether you're an a*****e or not. So all my threats are stupid, whatever. I'm just hoping you'll be useful because maybe you're made out of the part of me that wants to die. You look like him. Did you throw up?

The ASL sign for "throwing up" was helpfully vivid.

A long, long pause, during which Taym stared at the clone, lip curled in disgust, jaw working.

Just two signs sufficed for the next message, his hands moving viciously. I'll tell them take it away from you. A pause, a third: Forever.

And then he grinned back, nasty, hateful. Or just until it hurts, and let you do it again.

"I'm done here," he said, and didn't realize until later he'd signed when he said it, habit returning just that easily. He waited until Canary had been extracted, watching it drag its feet, suddenly drained.

"It's an emetic, but you know that," he said, his tone rapid, clipped, his eyes very pointedly avoiding Ever. It was hard to say whether he was answering H or, for some reason, addressing this to Sunny. "Some people never puke, some people puke a lot. I did just about every time, and the running joke was that was how you knew it was good: if I threw up. Canary in a coal mine. Wasn't really a nickname so much as a joke. I can't tell if it knows or if it just--conjured the name up somewhere. I need a cigarette," he added.

Ever held up his pen at a pause, slowly and somewhat hesitant, trying to catch H's attention -- which, of course, Taym could take as a sign of further insanity on Ever's part. But he offered a smile, as well, somewhat hopeful, as he pointed down to his notes.

"....I'm sorry, but I don't speak ASL.." It didn't actually sound as sorry as it should have, perhaps, probably because that was hardly Ever's fault. He shrugged, tapped the pen against the page in a jittery sort of way.

"I missed most of that." And this times his eyes flashed onto Taym, questioningly. Obviously, that was part of the point. "But if there's a book on it somewhere I can bring it with me for next time."