Dimitri bites down a sob. He's not willing to collapse out here in the open. Not that it hasn't happened anyway, but he'd rather not.

The door shifts again as he leans against it -- partly for stability, partly for the mediated contact, partly so he doesn't have to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper. "When the Surgeons had me. I couldn't struggle. I don't know what the stuff was, but -- it wouldn't so much as bend." He swallows. "I'm sorry, Erin, I -- I'm so sorry."