[His door is cracked open, and Jason is sitting at his desk but with the chair turned to face the door, leaning his elbows against his knees as he waits. The rest of the room is fairly unremarkable. It could be any anonymous studio apartment in the world, clean but empty, as the things that would normally clutter the place weapons and food/food containers aren't around. Instead there are books, mostly non-fiction or having to do with war and notebooks, most of those still empty as well.
Jason waits until Patrick shuts the door.]
I lied to you. I don't give a shit about the year I was brain damaged. [Simple and matter-of-fact.] There's something else I want to do and I need you to understand that I'm not fucking around here, here, I thought it over, and I'll do whatever's necessary to get it.
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Jason waits until Patrick shuts the door.]
I lied to you. I don't give a shit about the year I was brain damaged. [Simple and matter-of-fact.] There's something else I want to do and I need you to understand that I'm not fucking around here, here, I thought it over, and I'll do whatever's necessary to get it.
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