You've been locked in that fucking asylum too long. Not knowing why you were there, where you were or...who you were. So when a hot, ruthless blondie brings you to a place of luxury, aka Sector 45's base, you're going to be distrustful. You think his name's Warner or something...and you hope your memory's right. He's with you, face unemotional, as he gestures to an armoire of comfortable clothes I picked these for you. You're to wear them.