Jamison is silent-- he stares at Zenyatta, his eyes burning, the red-orange glow of combustion, fire and coals and molten metal. His breath shakes in his lungs, that narrow frame of his trembling just slightly.

"... they just had ta make ya talk like one a' us, didn't they?" His voice trembles, but doesn't break. "Stupid... stupid piece a trash!"

He breathes heavily-- and then the tension in him simply seems to snap. He grins, manic, tittering under his breath.

"Yeah. Yeah! Fuck it, right? Sure, bot! Let's do this!"