[ Amos turns his claws over, resting them palm-up (pad-up), looking them over as Gen suggests using them as weapons. And: yeah, that's true. He can't process shit whenever he's berserking, but he remembers it all after. The way he doesn't even need weapons, has been able to just tear through things with his bare (bear) hands.

Just hasn't had the chance to do it consciously next. Hasn't run into any Meridians when like this.

He looks back up at Gen at the coldness in his voice, contemplative expression shifting to something more sympathetic. A soft little tilt to his head, eyes considering. ]

's what you do when you know you're gonna lose. Play dirty. I'd do the same thing, I guess. Still doesn't mean we won't crush 'em.

[ Because the outcome is obvious: that Zenith will win this Oracle; that Zenith will win all of them. Put an end to Meridian once and for all. He's confident in that, so there's no need to get too worked up about it. (That will come later.)

But it's like he's been reminded of something, the way Amos sits up straighter, ears perked up and alert, too. He shifts a little, lightly taps on his pants pocket to draw its attention to Gen, a soft clack coming from the way claw hits screen through fabric. ]

I found something of yours, though. Before this shit happened. [ Before Set was fucking with his stuff... ] Think I might break it now if I tried taking it out myself, but hey. It's all yours.

[ And in the pocket closest to Gen there is, in fact, a cellphone, ready and waiting to be claimed by its proper owner. ]