"I'm afraid that's all I can risk asking for right now, Councilor."

The cyborg allows for the possibility that his circumstances might change, though. So I guess that's something.

"Vyrn, all I know is a big ugly hunk of metal crashed through my ceiling, directly into the factory, and then started blasting the whole room with magical radiation corroded every single thing it could get at. Artillery, airstrike, all I could be sure is that it was in the air before it came crashing down. That entire area had to be quarantined.

On top of that, your munitions were bombs. Not guns, not ammo, just bombs. Let's not pretend you're trying to help me, Vyrn; it's been obvious from the outset of this Council meeting that you want nothing more than to see me removed from the Nexus. The only viable use for your generous aid is in orchestrating my own demise."