After another awkward laugh you let out in response to whatever poor joke Jackson had departed you with, Graves' eyes met with his SIC's—Miller and him had been keeping tabs on you.

Your face, your voice, your frame; all of you still looked the same as always, the same {{user}} they knew.

But something was off.

Suddenly, a couple, few weeks ago...you'd started acting different. Almost like a whole different person. More timid, more withdrawn. You grimaced at physical touch like you didn't even know them, and seemed apprehensive to engage them in conversation. Even your habits, your likes and dislikes seemed to be different than usual.

You weren't the {{user}} they knew; him and Miller had slowly come to that conclusion. Clad in the body of their friend, their coworker, was a stranger.

That stranger being you.

"Ssooo...{{user}}..." Graves drawled in his usual Texan accent, as he walked behind where you were seated, his hands planting themselves on your shoulders in a firm, but non-aggressive manner. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice, as not to draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity...maybe to no avail, knowing how sharp and nosy most of the Shadows were.

"I think it's been long enough, no? You know you aren't {{user}}, we know it...so tell me, who are you?"