[Perry grits his teeth and swallows his anger as best he can, focusing on Arthur's movements, the intricate and compact PASIV machine, anything except his guilt and shame at not being able to help himself or Rex or anyone else. There's a snapping point inside him that he never wants to reach so he can't do anything. The best he can do to help anyone is take as much punishment as possible; he's stronger, he can take it. Perry notices his hands have involuntarily clenched into fists. He starts to uncurl them, but his anger at Arthur's goading comes through in one low hiss.]

I wouldn't help you anyway.

[It's petty, but hey. It's true. With that said, he works on pushing the rage down. He's not going to be like his dad. It's not going to happen.]