"Broken pieces?" He thinks, again, unbidden, of the cracks spider-webbing across his skin and feels a faint twist of concern. He has lived with strange things for years now, but this is the first time in a while that he has felt in danger from them. In imminent danger. What happens if he shatters?

No, better not to ask that question. Because it spawns half a dozen other questions, including, Will I still be able to feel? and Will I die or just be... in pieces? And those are questions he wants to answer.

Carlos tries to focus on combing over the attic, but he glances again at Mako.

"Are they... body parts? Or just pieces?"