Doing as he was told, Liron reached forward with his good hand - and the only non-mechanical one - and felt the skin on her arm. It was softer than his and not as hard, after all she was an artist not a firefighter - they wouldn't have the same muscle tone. Still it felt like his, unless hers was synthetic as well. But that wouldn't make sense, so he threw the thought away.

"It feels the same to me," Liron said rather bluntly. "Plus I am bleeding-" he gestured to his wounds to prove his point. "Plus, what is the point of synthetic flesh? The newer models don't have it."

There was definitely a trace of sullenness in his last sentence. Who could blame him? While he was still fuzzy on the details, he realized he had been thrown away and now he was asking a human who didn't build him the equivalent of philosophical questions. If Mel had ever watched Digimon, it was like he was reinacting BlackWarGreymon's quest for answers. Except with a whole lot less destroying.