Sitting on the bed with a renewed vigor, Faelan couldn't help himself. With a quick press to his runic arm, and his hand was metallic again. Pinching his fingers on the blade of his sword, he slowly ran his fingers down the length, sharpening it with a rather shrill sound of metal on metal. "To be quite frank, you're not really in the position to be asking questions Vince, but I'll indulge you this once. I don't actually know how long I've been down here, but old man Hollander is probably about 60 now."<br/><br/>Looking Vince over again, despite the horrid lighting, it was impossible not to see the similarities. The two were definitely related, and although he was irritated he hadn't caught on, the way the man squirmed did more than it's part to make him smile anyways. Turning to Shula, blatantly cutting Vince's chance at a reply off, he pulled down his shirt a little to expose their brand, showing it off like some new tattoo. "Hollander is the head researcher of the Foundation, at least the branch we were in. He designed my arm, your bond, and I'm assuming that gnarled thing on Vince over there."<br/><br/>Turning once again to the man, his curiosity seeped out of him with more vigor than anything he'd been involved in for some time now. "So, care to explain that unholy abomination of a limb you call an arm? I've seen the old man in person, and it isn't a matching pair." The shrill sound of his metallic fingers pinching his sword were reassuring to him, and he had really hoped it had the opposite effect on Vince.