Azwel goes quiet again, listening to his own brain gather itself together again. By the time Vash is rifling through his coat Azwel slides off the bed and makes his way to the monitor. Slowly, he taps a few commands, not even stopping to think, as he'd usually do, about how he's actually grown accustomed to this technology. He's more interested in what the monitor is showing him. He sits on a chair and looks at the collection of security video files that have him running that array, eleven in number, including one where Azwel himself is on the table. The other subjects are unfamiliar or, at best, vaguely recognisable. In each one, however, that device winks away calmly on his head. He frowns vaguely at them.

"This place loves to toy with my memory," he mutters. As Vash tries to pick the electronic lock Azwel pokes the videos, looking to see if he can find one that shows how they brought him in or, at least, how and why they put the device on his head.