Alley can't help the reflexive glance down at her scarred-up stump.

It hasn't quite become the new normal, yet, but thanks to her previous time on Genessia she's had months longer of living with it than she would otherwise. Or living with its lack, rather.

Even a mangled, twitchy wreck of a hand being slowly pulled apart by the Anchor had been better than... nothing, if also considerably more painful. (Phantom limb pain couldn't quite match what the Anchor had been like, in the end.)

"What do you mean, what would I do?"