Bullshit, Wrench crooks his horned fist, sparing no consideration for the fact he might be wise to slow down. Why are you lying? Tell me what happened to you. It's a desperate kind of insistence, bold and emphatic and born of the absolute terror that he's done it again. He's let Numbers out of his sight, and once more the man has found himself alone and in a world of trouble. At least this time he's standing. He's upright and signing, halting though the effort may be. But when Wrench stoops forward to stare into his partner's dark eyes, it's hard for him to see the flickering spark of light that might still be back there.

I have food. He's signing slower now, more deliberate in his efforts to make sure Numbers is actually watching him. Come back to my house. T-E-D-D-Y went off somewhere. I haven't seen them today. We can talk.

Not that they can't talk in front of Teddy, but whatever Numbers is holding back, Wrench intends to get out of him however he can.