It's all about shutting Felix up, isn't it?

This close to the surface, he can feel it. The echoes of it surge across the neural lace as Locus cants his head back, nearly hard enough to rap against the floor, his mouth dropping slightly as his eyes roll shut.

Again, his hips buck upwards, before his hands slide up into his hair, nails scraping his scalp, to tug insistently. Don't promise what you can't deliver, Taylor.