"One would think," Klaus replies glumly, blowing out a breath and closing his eyes for a moment, composing himself a little before opening them again. He's not even surprised, really. They were always only experiments.

"I remember not being able to breathe, and I thought it was just from panicking," he says quietly, not quite meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. "I would wake up in a puddle of my own vomit and think I was weak. I always thought I was weak."

Before he can continue, one of the machines sounds an alarm and an EMT is leaning over him, cutting his shirt off of him, peeling it away from his blood-soaked torso.

"Okay, let's try to calm down. Take a deep breath," she says as she resets the alarm and rests a hand on Klaus's shoulder. She's a Darrow native, that much he can tell by the blank-eyed pleasant smile she gives him as she watches the wound in his chest knit itself back together.

"That's a neat trick!" She says as she cleans the wound with saline, catching the bloody runoff with a towel. "We're almost there, hun."