She went on firmly, overriding his attempt to reply. "You haven’t croaked— yet —because I happen to be damn good at my job." She sighed. "You don't know how bad you’re hurting," she said more quietly, "how bad the damage is. If you were a car, I’d say you were firing on only one cylinder, had only one gear—the rest are stripped—no brakes, doubtful steering, and three flat tires. Do you hear what I’m saying to you?