[ Ian cannot even pretend to know enough about astrophysics to know what the fuck a q-ball is, nor that it was even possible for the sun to get infected. The thought of Mace at 22, the same age as some of Ian's bright eyed students, watching the fucking sun go out?

It pulls at his chest.

Still can't help that soft huff at humans taste like chicken. The battery begins to finish taking shape, slowly but surely. ]

We got a whole dead guy back there in the tunnels we're wasting. Should've grabbed a rack of ribs on our way through.

[ And so it goes for a while, a softer banter, a muted affair until the last piece is complete and Ian finally assembles the pieces one by one. It's simple, and he offers it over to Mace to give it the first test.

Just turn the thingy a few times. ]

If she lights up, we're ready for our sweet watery graves.