[For a long moment, he doesn't do anything. Maybe if he doesn't move, or speak, or think, time will just stop progressing, and things will never get any worse than this moment.

But then he swallows hard and nods, forehead rubbing against the plastic tabletop.

There's relief in it, too. She explained, and now he knows. It sounds stupid and insane and he can't believe his luck would be this bad—no, of course it is. It was always only a matter of time before everything got ruined. This place is like that . . .

But it's still a relief for the situation to have broken down into something he can understand, even if he hates it. It's finally something he can talk about. Hushed and dull-sounding, like some spark inside is taking a break for now and might not be back for a while, but he can say words.]

I don't . . . so, what d'you wanna hear? You probably saw the part that matters, right? You wanna hear about Hope's Peak? I don't wanna talk about that stuff in public . . . is it worth goin' somewhere else? Do you wanna know that bad? Or would you rather just—stop now?

[Stop. Stop them, stop talking to him.]