Unfortunately for Yuya, the longer this conversation goes on, every second--every word--puts more and more strain on Foster's ability to tolerate it. His admittedly baffling logic may have alleviated some of it, but ultimately, the teen's good intentions were doomed to set him off sooner or later.

"No good?" Foster echoes. His voice is strained, his eyes tired. "No... no, no, no. What's no good... what's no good is you wasting your time on trash like me!" He pushes his plate aside, discarding even the idea of eating any more.

"I'm just garbage! Rotten! Disgusting! Why care if I struggle--if I starve? I'm beyond help!Beneath it. Don't try to help me." His claws dig into the table; he leans forward, eyes bright as he grows more excited, more vehement. "Destroy me! Put me out of your misery! That's the only solution!"