[The Balladeer curls his fingers over Benji's still hand, though it's an unconscious movement, a reaction to the fury building in him. He wants to spit venom; he wants to write a song that everyone could hear, so everyone would know the truth of the man. Maybe that's an underreaction, but it's the only thing he's ever been able to do.]
Transported. Isn't there any oversight? Don't they - ?
[...this is pointless, now. He lets out a breath and deliberately loosens his grip on Benji's hand.]
no subject
Transported. Isn't there any oversight? Don't they - ?
[...this is pointless, now. He lets out a breath and deliberately loosens his grip on Benji's hand.]
I'm sorry. Benjamin, I - I can't even imagine.