"They." (THEY? WHO IS THEY? ARE THERE MORE OF YOU PEOPLE? A lot more. Apparently. We've only met one. JESUS CHRIST... You sound like me when you do that. You all sound like each other. It's awful.) Soldat sets the notepad down, and sinks onto the couch again tiredly, trying to ignore the way their head feels more crowded than ever. "Gonna go meet her?"