"It's mostly chromium. Not quite top of the line, where I come from, but a better modification than most can afford."

Zero's voice is low and has a certain grit about it that isn't a put on. It might make someone wonder if he was a smoker or spent a lot of time breathing harsh air.

His hands move with almost a flourish when he pulls the sleeve of his white trenchcoat down to the forearm. The hardware ends only just above the wrist and the other man will see that most of his arm is organic. He has reasonably good muscle tone for a middle-aged guy, but it's doubtful that he'd impress a superhero. His skin is just beginning to lighten from age.

"The other is like that too." Zero assures and positions himself back more or less the way he was.

"Your dreams and mine sound like they'd be old chooms."