"Exactly what I said. Wires. Long, thin, flexible, able to cut through flesh or metal as easily as the finest of swords or, with the right touch, pick up something as delicate as a pack of cigarettes. I could manipulate mine at will, you see."

He lifts a hand, fingers dancing in the air as he talks, not quite in the fashion of a marionettist, nor quite in the way one plucks at a string instrument, but a combination of both, along with flourishes here and there that do not approach either.

"I suppose the nature of their storage is the reason..."