It was Andy’s own plea. Trying to crank down his own fear reaction, he said nothing. If no violence was forthcoming, that was fine by him—it wasn’t like he was armed and ready. His head hurt, but the droning buzz appeared to be a fault in the feedback loop monitoring the prelim work for his replacement eyes. His headware wasn’t fritzed, but as cyber mods went, headware wasn’t useful in a fight, fully operational or not. Even if he’d had combat cyberware, Andy wouldn’t have known how to use it. So he watched the streetrat watching him, and wondered what he would do if the scruffy little man decided to attack him after all. It was possible. The man’s beady eyes were fastened on Andy, and his expression was avid beneath the grime of homeless life.