[Yusuke's lain the communicator on his bathroom sink, and he's carefully applying a bandage to the nasty-looking cut on his jaw. He's scowling, first at the mirror, then at the communicator.]
They fucking firebombed a whole city. A whole fucking city. How didn't we...
[He trails off with a muttered curse in Japanese. There's a pause while he jabs
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I can't believe this. How could it have come to this?
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Yusuke... you did good in there. Real good.
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[A beat.]
Thanks, Jack. You weren't so bad yourself.
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