Yeah that ain't open for debate at this point, [William agrees, looking at her hands. He touches her knuckles carefully, lifts one. Feels the chill to her flesh. Optimistically, he does go for the scanner, runs the light across her hands. It stutters, flickers-- moreso over her wrists than the inert bag of bones and greying muscle below. He's hoping for signs of life. Any sign of life at all.

He doesn't have high expectations, though. And he's well-trained enough to talk over the automated examination, a dubious distraction.]

I'd like to do two things before we talk about surgical stuff, with your consent, [he tells her.] Try my abilities on them. And check if the nanites is still in your hands at all. Even in the worst case scenario, you sound like you're familiar with some of your options and we've got loads of information on that too. [He looks at her, gives her a minute to calibrate to the gruesome spectacle of the unfamiliar extremities sitting on the ends of her wrists.] What you might not know is you ain't alone. There've been plenty of weird symptoms from the rest of us who's come back from the corridor exploration.