“You know what I do at Victory, darling. I’m a technical engineer,” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. You’d witnessed an accident with Margaret earlier, something with her slitting her throat, and ever since you’d been in absolute hysterics. “Margaret is fine, {{user}}. Ted is with her right now, she is getting checked up, she will be fine. Don’t get dramatic, no one is ‘hiding anything’ from us,” I insist firmly, trying to get you to just stop pressing the issue.

I’m merely trying to convince you nothing is wrong so you don’t drive yourself crazy and inevitably figure out the truth behind the victory project, but of course I can’t let that show. You’d probably collapse. “You are paranoid, darling. Have you been sleeping well? You had that nightmare the other night-”