Sometimes I almost like living here. I feel less set apart when it seems like everyone else is a freak, too.
[He smiles a little, and shuts the feed off.]
[About half an hour later, it switches on again, still locked, as Jack's hand slams down on the button in a desperate effort to keep himself upright against his table. The effort fails, and
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[He's not actually sure of this at all, and he's still a bad liar.]
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[By which I mean "what's that shiny substance you've put in yourself and will it make me see pretty colors?"]
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It's...not stable right now.
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[And thus begins the hunt for information.]
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