He should have delivered the news more gently, commiserated with his friend, coddled him right through the door. The path of least resistance. But Psii was cantankerous on a good night. Now Psii was raising his voice, too irritated to restrain himself.

"They're not my voitheth, dumbath. You think I thit around making them up for fun? Fuck you. I knew you wouldn't underthtand."

Though, it didn't help that back home, Psii was always harping about future deaths. No wonder people didn't take him seriously. Not only were terrible fates difficult to accept, but Psii just wouldn't shut up about them.

"Obviouthly if I'm dying thoon, there'th a good reathon why I can't jutht cram both our atheth in the bunker. You couldn't jutht make thingth eathy for onthe? You couldn't jutht do the thmart thing and thay, 'Ok Psii, thure, I'll leave the liminality logithticth to thomeone who'th actually exthperienthed with inevitable vithionth of doom and get my thtupid nubth in the fucking boxth.'"

Psii took on that special plodding tone he used sometimes, a poor imitation of Signless's voice that made the great rebel orator sound imbecilic.