[ Unable to undo the damage, Ash can at least control it. Minimize it. There's shame burning there now, but he can push it away enough not to let it control his actions. It's never far away, ready to rear its ugly head, but Vrenille, to his credit, is trying to draw attention away from it. Which confirms he can guess, but Ash would have suspected as much anyway.

He bristles. This was supposed to be over. Dino was done, his enemies were dead, he was dead. Here he is, back in this. It's not as bad, but there's a sting still. Ash could pretend it's an act, another character to play, but he's Ash Lynx right now -- no matter what the government might say his name to be.

Despite all of that, Ash knows that he's only survived as long as he did, made as much progress as he's made, by learning to work in the system. He'll do the same here. He'll play that role until he can find the key to dismantle it forever. It's exhausting, the thought of starting over, but there's little choice.

Grabbing the cup, he tosses it perfectly into the trash. His aim is impeccable. It was an action that took very little effort, but he already hates this role.

His voice drops. ]

That's for the coffee. If somebody else has a problem, I'll help them develop selective amnesia.

[ The moment is tense. Heavy, pregnant with something unspoken. ]

For the coffee and the alcohol.