"I am captain?!"

"Blasted mug!" I looked at it hatefully.

"This is all your fault!"

I attempted to throw the mug at the Arbitrator, to smash it, to let go of it.

Nothing of the sort was possible.

I flailed left and right. The mug did not budge. I could not let it go, no matter how hard I tried. It was as if it were glued to me with a strange static-like substance. It rolled between my fingers and from one hand to the other, but it was as if I were made of iron and the mug were a powerful rare-earth magnetic bearing coated with oil.

Why can't I let go of the mug?!

Did the Arbitrator's reconstruction of my organs have anything to do with this?

Upon giving up to prying the mug out of my hands, I turned to the Arbitrator and spoke.

I made my case calmly and clearly, pressuring various facts that my DNA couldn't possibly be on the mug and that I looked nothing like Captain and that it might as well scan my memories for evidence or something of that sort!