"You're smart, Col," I said, my voice coming out hoarse and thready. "You don't need me to dumb it down for y—"
"Yeah, and I don't need you to be a condescending dick, either," he snarled, and spun on his heel, pacing across the room and then back again. He turned again and pointed his finger at me. "You," he said, "are smart as hell.
But you don't need to be a fucking genius to realize that using yourself as a—as a research subject is a bad fucking idea!"
"Okay!" I yelled back. "Fine! Then give me a better one! If you're so fucking smart, and actually I know you are, I'm not being condescending, then maybe you should hear me out before you start calling me crazy!"
We stared at each other, his chest heaving and his eyes glowing faintly. I was panting too, like I'd been running, and the silence hung thick enough to be suffocating.
"I'm sorry," we both said at the same time.
