"Mmn." Slightly disbelieving noise, that. Psiioniic knows better than to trust those words so easily, as much as he loves the stupid seadweller he's stuck with. Without much elegance, he flops back on top of Dualscar again and presses his bony chin to his shoulder. "Wouldn't have let you do it anyway." He has more than just fists and a knife now, after all. "I'll tell you when you meth up."