Last spark from the ashes

There's a man sitting in bench in the nexus with medium length length sliver hair and hard eyes of a blue-gray hue.  He leans forward in the seat with his hands clasped together in front of him.  He looks as though he's trying to crack his knuckles, but they won't crack.  His fingers are the right shape.  Joints in all in the right place, at a glance, but the hands are entirely formed of stain resistant metal.

Zero looks as if he's not looking at his surroundings, but through them and through you too, if you're approaching him.  He feels a question like an inch in the back of his mind and it's apparently one that he can't help, but to scratch.

"What's keeping you awake at night?"