"The Chair again," the Soldier says grimly, after another hit from the cigarette. Fuck, it'd missed that over the last feels-like-centuries. Going to miss it even more when you've finished the damn thing off.

Still, the hands are coming up again, and it'd be nice not to see them try to stuff the guy into the chair. "I'd appreciate it if you stepped forward away from it, Rosinante. I might not be afraid of these right now, but it still wouldn't be fun watching you shoved into it and brain-fried." It even obligingly takes a steps back, half-turns, inviting Rosinante to walk with it. Maybe a different surrounding would help Rosinante's hallucinations, anyway.