[ There's been so many indignities today. It's been one after another, really. Being stripped to begin with, that long walk to the motel, that ridiculous tour train, and now this. Standing in a room full of strangers, wearing some sort of dress, emblazoned with the words "Ask me about: Adultery!" written in scattered red lettering, while other equally disgruntled presumed prisoners are forced to ask him about it.
Over and over again.
It's been a serious effort not to shoot anyone. This is not any of these people's fault, he reminds himself, for the hundredth time. They're captives as much as he is. They need his help, not his temper, but by God he's having a rough day.
And then there's that voice. And for the first time all day, the anger drains from him and he turns, eyes wide, to follow that familiar sound of fatigue. ]
Tell me you're not actually playing along with this.
2
Over and over again.
It's been a serious effort not to shoot anyone. This is not any of these people's fault, he reminds himself, for the hundredth time. They're captives as much as he is. They need his help, not his temper, but by God he's having a rough day.
And then there's that voice. And for the first time all day, the anger drains from him and he turns, eyes wide, to follow that familiar sound of fatigue. ]
Tell me you're not actually playing along with this.