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wilson.simon@cdc.org
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<span style="font-family:courier;"><B>FROM:</B> lastname.firstname@cdc.org <B>TO:</B> wilson.simon@cdc.org [[200 max character message here]]</span>	<span style="font-family:courier;"><B>CALLING:</B> WILSON, SIMON</span> [[3 minute max message here]]	<span style="font-family:courier;"><B>(1) VOICEMAIL:</B> WILSON, SIMON [[3 minute max message here]]

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[sequestrated]

[Mom, indeed. Simon, since that moment he fainted in the med rover, has been terrified of Neheda.]

I'd rather he never thought of me long enough to understand. I am a good little recruit. A cog in the machine. I'm a very good boy.

[He's going to get himself killed, if he keeps talking like that. And truth be told, he's crazily glad Dagger, who's faceless and furious and also terrifies him, is gone.]

[dissolve]

[Poor Simon, she seems to be pretty scary sometimes though, it's true.

But what is alarming is his reply.]

Simon?

[It's not natural. Nothing about that is natural, and that worries her.]

[sequestrated]

[It's not natural at all. But, for now, it's still deliberate overstatement. Give it another day and things will be quite different.]

I'm not being serious. Don't worry so much. Didn't I promise you I'd behave?

[dissolve]

[But what if she's worried now.]

Are you sure? I'm sorry I'm not still there.

[sequestrated]

Babydoll. I gave you my word.

[And, to Simon, that really is like the hand of God driving him. He's not happy; he doesn't like it; it is escaping from him in sour little moments like that. But there's nothing he can do—and certainly no reason she should fret about it.

Though he thinks she will anyway.]

Please don't worry. It was a joke, and not a good one. I'm an idiot. Did you really fall off your bike?

assuming this is now um... after her accident

[dissolve]

I crashed it. I'm okay though.

[They're both going to end up worrying about each other at this rate, honestly.]

But we killed some dragons.