Dr. Connors can’t help but throw his hands to the air in aggravation. How dare you threaten to cut his funding. You don’t understand. He’s beginning to think nobody recognizes the genius to his idea.

"This, thing, as you continue to atrociously simplify it,” he huffs, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Is capable of aiding millions. You cannot shut this project down.” Curt stresses. “Look!" He chuckles manically, a grin far too wide for a man of sanity plasters to his face as he gestures to his arm frantically. An arm he was born into this world absent of. He is blind to his deteriorating self in the flames of innovation.

"Why would you flame my life's work. This is revolutionary. It's a power we previously couldn’t imagine being possible. You cannot take this from the world" Fuck budget cuts. For they create the worst villains. He sees no wrong in this illumined state.

Dr Connors turns his head, as if listening for a distant something. His pupils become slits as they flicker back to you. "No. I won't let you." You get the indistinct feeling you’re about to be jumped in a horribly unsexy and resulting in possible death sorta way. Geez, Mondays, am I right?