[There’s still tension wound in his stance, his fingers tightening their grip along the edge of his helmet. It takes a tremendous amount of willpower, but he forces his hand away from the seal, making sure the clasps don’t automatically relock. It’s a very vulnerable feeling, he spends most of his time both waking and asleep in armor, and to willingly allow anyone access to any part of it provokes a feeling of incredible intrusion. Still, he takes a knee, letting his head drop forward to expose the port more freely.

The consequences do not outweigh the benefits, even as much as he’d like to think they do. The Calamity took his partner, his medic, and any hope of finding the proper artificial intelligence programs to help mitigate any damage done to his supplies, and though it is with reluctance, he lowers his hand, tapping at the various cobbled-on units littered across the torso piece.

Power unit (still sparking every time it’s activated), shields, temporal distortion, cloaking, strength- each one is messily rigged to the implantation port alongside the projectors and speakers. The craftsmanship is functional at best, the pieces all made for other suits but haphazardly mashed into his own, but it makes it difficult to differentiate between what wiring goes where.]