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[corkscrewed]

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[corkscrewed]

[ the alcohol will have hit fully by the time the statement ends. martin watches the recorder, silent for a long moment, before he clears his throat and glances over at the table. ]

She sounds like a stranger.

[epistemological]

I've listened to it... dozens of times. And every time, I tell myself 'this is Sasha. The real Sasha.'

[ He ejects the tape.]

She always sounds like a stranger.

[corkscrewed]

Maybe it's just because... people always sound different on tape.

[ he's scrambling here. ]

[epistemological]

[ He looks up at that.]

Martin.

[ That's all he says.]

[corkscrewed]

I just mean, maybe that's why she doesn't sound familiar.

[epistemological]

Martin.

[ Self delusion is not a good idea.]

[corkscrewed]

I should go back, at least. I should - take care of - the thing pretending to be her.

[ he's getting punchy now, more upset than he'd realized. ]

[epistemological]

I'm bringing her back, Martin.

[ He looks up past his glass at Martin.]

That's what I'm doing here. I'm going to save Sasha. And Michael Shelley. And Gerard Keay. All the sacrificed archival assistants. All those trapped by the Institute.

[corkscrewed]

Gerard was an assistant?

[ yeah his volume is definitely rising now. ]

What do you mean sacrificed?

[epistemological]

He worked with Gertrude. And she... she didn't kill him, but she skinned him. Used him, after his death. Put him in a Leitner so she wouldn't lose his knowledge.

[ As far as he's concerned. ]

And I mean... what I said. Gertrude...

Michael. The Spiral. The Distortion, the one with the doors.

Once upon a time, his name was Michael Shelley.

[corkscrewed]

The same one who worked-

[ he's dragging his hand through his hair. ]

I'm, I think I'm going to go for a walk.

[ there's no escape from this. ]

[epistemological]

As I said... there's a guest room. Down the hall and to the right.

[ He's not sure he can quite handle Martin walking away from him again. ]

Go... go have a lie down.

[corkscrewed]

I don't want to lie down. Thought I'd go - to the arcade or something. That'd be fun.

[epistemological]

Then fine, go.

[ And he downs the rest of the drink and puts the glass down.]

[corkscrewed]

You could come. I just - I don't want to keep talking about this.

[epistemological]

You're the one who-

[ He grumbles at that point and breathes out hard.]

We could put on a film. Play a game. I don't- talk about literally anything else.

[corkscrewed]

Let's do a film, then.

[ he's so strangely uncomfortable, and upset, and he wishes suddenly that he weren't drunk. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon stands, and that's when it becomes a lot clearer how much of the bottle he's been through though he makes his way over to the den without much trouble. He flops onto the couch without much dignity, grabbing at a control before pressing it on and grabbing up what is clearly some sort of gaming controller to start looking for his film collection.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin approaches the couch with that carefully composed sort of posture that only the very drunk employ when they are doing their best to seem more sober than they are. he takes a careful seat, giving jon a little space. ]

You have a Playstation?

[epistemological]

[ Jon looks up at Martin with a squinting glance.]

Yes.

[corkscrewed]

I - you know what? Sure. Of course you have a Playstation.

[ he's just going to let himself melt into the couch. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon's going to navigate to a selection of a few movies saved on the device and point at the screen, holding out the controller.]

Pick as you like.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin will take the controller, picking out some sort of heist film that had been rated pretty highly. and then he slides the controller onto the coffee table, trying to get comfortable. ]

I'm glad you still want to, um. Hang out, away from work.

[epistemological]

There's a lot less to do here.

[ He settles back against the cushions in what is clearly his favorite spot.]

Even- even working the library as often as I do, I end up here most nights. Since we, uh, since we figured out better regulations.

[corkscrewed]

More comfortable than that cot you let me borrow, I bet.

[ he's trying to settle himself, but there's still a weird, sick adrenaline in his system. ]