Sephiroth: Cold… and like a car ran over me… *shakes his head, then sits up, rubbing his arm* What… *tries to use his telepathic powers, but hisses when he can’t access them* Damn it… *snarls and reaches out at the air, clawing at it as if it will help somehow*
Hojo: *quickly shakes up the syringe and places it into a beaker before the clotting agents start doing their work* Yes… this is good. *moves to leave the laboratory, hissing as he encounters the sunlight, retreating into the shade* Master… mistress. Whatever the hell you wish to be called. Are you here? I require your assistance.