[Whether it's where Jack intended to take the conversation, it seems to be working. The hostility and defensive tension is bleeding out of Genji's body language in slow degrees, and he's quiet when Jack talks. He lifts his sole hand from the table when Jack mentions breaking things, staring at it for a long, contemplative second.

He speaks slowly, uncertainly. Like he's not sure he should be sharing this.]

I am... not used to the strength of my grip. [Morrison must be aware of the damage Genji has a tendency to leave behind, he realizes dimly. Expense reports for things he's broken both intentionally and unintentionally.] It is supposed to help make climbing easier.

[Which it does. But he's also so, so tired of misjudging his strength and breaking yet another glass or tablet. He flexes his fingers against his palm, watches the curl and stretch, the way the metal moves. He looks back up at Jack.]

Were there other side effects?

[There's an expectant note to this words as he asks, searching for something in whatever Jack reveals. Some proof that their experiences may be alike after all.

Because what Jack is saying isn't losing a limb or an eye; he kept his looks, but his entire body was changed regardless, and that idea is the one Genji is clinging to at the moment. That Jack went through something that altered him whole and yet now he can stand here, discussing it like it's nothing at all.

Genji's been struck by a sudden desperation to believe that someday he might be able to do the same.]