"Maybe something more internal," Togusa forgoes the gun in favor of the combat knife that's kept with the riot gear.

Hesitant. "Don't call on.. Ra. Anything short of that, sure. But we don't want to fry these things." Leave something usable for Zee. Even if it isn't what he had in mind.

One of the screens starts flipping through anything it can conjure up to try to shake Togusa's confidence. Any time he's been hurt, or threatened. Pesgare. October. January. It isn't stopping him from advancing on the thing.