"They conduct electricity," he repeats in a tone meant to imply how much he finds his acquaintance to be a complete idiot, but merely sounds strangled and torn. "I don't know how many of these are on, that is to say live, that is to say working, that is to say conducting electricity as we fuckin' well speak."

The initial surge of feverish energy has faded to a harsh, heavy gasping as Rush shuts his eyes and devotes the remainder of his concentration into not panicking.

It is not going well.

"I do not like," he works out from his awkward, contorted, painful sprawl on the floor, "touching. Regardless of fuckin' species. Y'understan'?"