She takes the hand, then rests there for a moment, bruising and bleeding and battered in more ways than one.

"I doubt that," Setsuna says, too exhausted to really think and stop herself. "I can think - of a few ways you could have made this worse, if you were."

She swallows, heavily, wiping a hand across her mouth. Unfortunately, this leaves a nice smear across her mouth after it, because her hand is covered in grenade residue and sweat. She bites down on air, clenching her teeth, determination and frustration lancing the pain in her voice and letting some deeply ugly sort of optimism leak out. "Maybe we'll run him through a revised version, someday, how does that sound."