[ Aoba never thought he could miss Clear so much as he does in this moment. That guy left him confused and exasperated, but not like this. He'll take that masked weirdo's brand of crazy over this melodramatic, scripted whining any day. ]

Hey, you're missing the point! How about using the connection to get a better look around here. Instead of forcing your way through till you find someone who can give you answers?

[ He holds an image of the woman he came across just earlier, Cathaway, clearly in his aching mind as he can. Holds it there almost tauntingly as he crosses arms over his chest, the sleeves of that garish neon blue jacket rustling. He shifts his weight back to one leg and pins the mask with the most judging look he can manage; his own mask for the fear of being lashed at again, molded by his own foul temper and haughtiness. ]

It worked for me.