"...you can't just–throw money and tech at this and solve the problem."

"Can you?"

"I'm not sure whether I can throw money and tech and Lev at whatever the problem is and solve it, because I don't actually know what the problem is. But unless it's a really fucking weird problem, I'm pretty sure the two of us working together can find a solution that both outperforms and involves less murder than 'assassinate a bunch of people until it's fixed.'"

"I guess...you get to hear my tragic backstory today after all," he says, faintly.

"As you wish."

"...have you gone through the dread pirate phase yet? Am I the stuck-up farm girl or the depressed princess in this scenario?"

Kisses. "I think I'm the Man in Black, because I'm kind of a Mary Sue and I kinda used to be evil. And you're definitely more depressed than stuck-up." 

"It's pretty tempting to ditch the whole thing we were gonna do and see how far we can chain Princess Bride references."

"So we got distracted from getting you clothes by sex, and from sex by fanfic, and from fanfic by tragic backstories, and from tragic backstories by Princess Bride references? I feel like we can push this another couple of levels."

"I mean I should probably get you updated on Deadpool's Revenge Quest considering it's the point of all the murders but – does the meta-conversation count as another level? I feel like it should."

"I think it does! --Deadpool's Revenge Quest first, then we can reward ourselves by getting infinitely distracted. Or alternately I could just keep distracting you forever and then you wouldn't have time to commit any murders."

"As much as I'd be into that..."

He scoots back a little and pulls his knees up to his chest.

"I dunno if I should tell you the whole horror story or just give you the dust jacket version."

"I'm happy to hear either. I will give you lots of hugs."

He flops onto his side, scarred-side down.

"So – don't know if you knew about it, you probably weren't in public school, I don't even know if they were doing the thing where they pass out flyers or whatever – a guy called Steven Wilson went missing six years ago. Homophobic parents, got locked out of the house a couple times, that kinda thing."

He counts back in his head. "I was at MIT."

"Course you were."

“So—I ran away, and I kind of...figured it out from there. Didn’t have a ton of options but I could do stuff under the table. And eat a lot of pasta. And that sucked but I made it work, you know?”

“...except then I got sick.”

Asher doesn't seem to notice how tightly he's hugging Z.

Tight hugs are good. He’s going to return those.

“I figured I had to cough up for the doctor when I puked blood. And, uh— cancer. Mostly in my stomach. Which never happens with teenagers, but I guess I’m just special like that, right?”

“Obviously I...didn’t have insurance. Or money. So I started looking for other options, and these guys...told me they were doing experimental treatments. Not really legal because it’s so risky but, you know, I looked like I really needed help, they couldn’t not try to give me a chance... I figured I didn’t have a ton to lose.”

He laughs.

“I was kind of a moron.”

"You were a kid."

“...yeah. I think I’m too hard on Steven. He was trying.”

How much tighter can you hug someone?

“It was this whole underground human experiment thing to try to...induce superpowers, I guess. They shot me up with some stuff and told me my number was 501Z and stuck me in a room with some other poor suckers to sweat it out.”

“Apparently the way you get people to ‘threshold’ with this stuff is putting them under stress. They had a ton of tricks — they had this, box? They didn’t explain it to me, it sucks all the air out and makes you feel like you’re choking —”

"...if you tell me actually you got off on it maybe I will be less upset."

“Not that one. That sucked pretty bad.”

His head is on Asher’s shoulder now.

“They did try to torture me the regular way, some, but they kinda gave up on it when they realized. Lots of small spaces and asphyxiating and watching other people get fucked up.”

“None of it worked on me. I was pretty much the most worthless test subject they had. So they just—one day they came in and got me, like it was going to be an experiment, and they tossed me in the incinerator where they did the bodies.”

"--Fuck."

He laughs again.

“Yeah.”

“Y’know what — I’ll give them credit. They finally found the thing that worked. It turned on, and I was so sure I was gonna die — I mean, as much as I was having thoughts, I really wasn’t having a ton of thoughts — and then when they were dragging me out I woke up.”

“And then I grabbed a gun off the guy who was holding my ankles and I fucking murdered everybody in that room.”