[There's a small gathering here by the door, but that hasn't stopped Jack from getting right up next to it, his shoulder pressed against the wood. It is from this rather odd position that he decides to make his first real transmission since the fear event.]
Does anyone know where this goes?
[Locked to Elaine; difficult hack]Maybe we should have
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You may speak.
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I didn't mean to do what I did. I didn't want to do what I did.
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[His voice would almost be conversational if it weren't so low, and if he had moved a muscle from his rigid stance.]
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He didn't persuade me!
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Use whatever rhetoric you deem appropriate. He used you, manipulated you. Call it whatever you will, he is a master at it.
[He leans toward the camera, hands on the table it's resting on.]
What I need to know is why.
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[He frowns rather ponderously; the memory is dim, and unpleasant. He's unconsciously chafing his wrists as he thinks.]
Said he wanted to see how far before I'd shut down.
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Explain.
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Something in my head. I had to do anything, if somebody said a set of words with it. Mister Pendergast found out about it.
...He pretended to be a friend, before. He's as bad as Atlas.
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[He goes silent for a moment and then speaks very quietly, almost to himself.]
Trusting him is foolish.
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[Hurting is a mild word, but it wouldn't pay to be too graphic.]
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Apology noted, Mr. Ryan.
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Jack.
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Jack.
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