Closed Lesson Learned (Lucillius)

[Yoona]

Yoona had learned a great many things in her desert-home. Ironically enough, her father had been the one to teach her about the power that her own body held. It was a woman's greatest weapon, he'd said; with it, she could tempt, taunt, and mold the minds of the weak, like clay. But she needed to be tactful about it, and have enough common sense to know when enough was enough.

Of course, the easiest way to do that was to avoid using that power, altogether. Yoona felt that she respected herself too much, and preferred to use force to get the things that she wanted, since it was a tactic that came easiest to her. Using one's body to sway the mind of another was just demeaning...humiliating, even. And the Chaktawe woman was sure that she'd sooner cut off one of her own toes than stoop to such a low, near-pathetic level. If her body was as powerful as she'd been told it was, then it needed to be recognized and appreciated, not thrown into droves of air-headed men like...like rotting meat being given to starving beasts.

But things were different, now. For all intents and purposes, this power of hers was a last resort. Even as Luc pressed her further up against the door, his hand creeping down her side to settle on her waist, unwelcome fingers gliding across her skin, she knew that she still had a chance. A small, small chance to regain some semblance of control.

So she would lead him on. Pretend to be okay with it, to be enjoying it, until the moment that he let his guard down. That would be her chance...that was when she had to shift things to be in her favor.

And it would happen. Of course it would happen. Men were innately weak and vulnerable to manipulation, often at the mercy of their traitorous bodies and desires...and Luc was no different. She just needed to be patient, needed to suffer through this...

Only...it wasn't getting any easier. The knife stayed lodged in the wall while their lips were locked, the light trembling of the blade reaching Yoona's fingertips through the wood. And it was feeling as though some dark haze had crept over her mind. She hated Luc but, at the same time, didn't, wanted him to stop but didn't, felt repulsed by his touch but didn't...it was like he was dragging her down into the void of his twisted pleasure. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to find some way to fight him off, but...she just couldn't. Her body seemed to be giving up on her, and all that was left was her failing, panicked mind.

And then he was stepping back, giving her some room to breathe before he was on her, again, the damned knife still at his side as he shoved her back up against the door. It was at that moment that the full reality of the situation seemed to hit her, tearing down what was left of her confidence, her control.

"I'm your friend," the man breathed, hands going to grip the edge of her wrap, and Yoona immediately reached back to grab one of his wrists, a throaty growl of shock and displeasure slipping through her gritted teeth. This wasn't...this wasn't right. Everything was falling apart, and that goddamned knife...there was no way that she'd be able to get to it, now, because Luc wasn't an idiot and he had her cornered. And her plan...her way out, her last resort...it was backfiring. She was losing.

The Chaktawe woman's breathing began to quicken, all of a sudden, her nails digging into the door as the fear within her swelled. And unpleasant memories came flooding into her mind; the bowman and his shifter-slave, the pursuit that had ended with her held up against a tree, the sheer, sadistic glee in the man's voice as he'd taunted her, threatened her, invaded her head with horrific images...

'No...no, no, no...no no no!' Yoona mentally shouted, biting down on her bottom lip as she ground her forehead into the door. 'No no no no—'

What could she do, now? What the hell could she do?! She was defenseless, vulnerable, half-naked, and all but stripped of what little self-worth she'd been left with, that she'd fought so hard to keep over the years...

'Ruki...Ruki, help me.'

"Yoona, I—"

'Ruki, please. I need your help. I—please...!'

The hyena hesitated, startled to silence by the sound of the woman's voice. She sounded terrified...and desperate. More desperate than he'd ever seen her, before.

And she wouldn't let up, pleading with him, biting down harder on her lip as it began to quiver, Luc pressing ever further against her.

'PLEASE! Don't LET him do this to me, DON'T LET HIM DO THIS, RUKI, PLEASE!!'

He couldn't take it anymore. Snarling, the guardian whipped around and started to dart around the room, pushing over side tables, tearing books from bookcases...doing whatever he could to draw the bastard's attention away from his despairing friend. As much as he wanted to just leap at him and fasten his teeth around his filthy throat, he couldn't, but the things that surrounded them were at his disposal, and if he caused enough of a ruckus...

Yoona was put off for a moment, not having known what to expect. But that miniscule chance that she'd hoped for had finally come and, ignoring the blade that dug into the base of her spine, she forced herself backwards with a grunt, intending on pushing Luc to the ground. At the very least he'd be surprised, and though it'd probably only last for a few ticks, she'd gained enough mental will to move, again.

It was now or never.

"Listen to me" - 'I'm thinking'

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

He was so close to breaking her. Lucillus could feel the panic that had consumed every part of Yoona's soul, drowning out what good judgement yet existed in her mind with a shrill, terrified scream. She could fight back, she could destroy him if she would just turn around and attack, but she didn't. The Chaktawe held her ground and whimpered, descending into a quivering mess, all the strong will that had carried her thus far vanishing like smoke through an open window. She was cracking, fraying at the seams, her brittle rebellion ready to snap apart and be snuffed out forever. The Nitrozian knew that he had her... this sore nail, refusing to bend into place for so long, was about to be hammered down at lost. All that he needed was one last push. I've gone this far, Luc told himself, his thoughts spiralling out of control and descending into mind-numbing savagery. I've gone this far, and I can go farther still. Yoona doesn't know what she's in for. There was something about this moment, the shuddering slave in front of him and the feel of his breeches collapsed around his ankles, that made his skin crawl with disgust, but he could not, for the life of him, admit that feeling to himself. For if he did, if he looked deep into his heart and admit that this was something that revolted him, then the whole game would be up.

And if Luc had the choice between being a winner or a good man, he'd pick being a winner. After all, who wouldn't? What's the point of ambition if you don't have the guts to excel at what you do? What's the point of life if you don't strive to make your name heard on every lip? What's the point of owning someone if you only controlled their services? Though he felt half-sick and close to vomiting, Luc maintained his ground, thrusting himself into the role of the malicious hunter and feeling his real emotions get stripped away one by one. Regret, lust, greed, hate... none of that mattered now, as Luc adopted a policy of singular determination. Though he was going to enjoy breaking Yoona, he wasn't going to do it out of some meagre revenge or because he hungered for her. This was as simple as moving a game piece from one end of the board to the other. This was just mechanics, in a system that Luc had grown to admire greatly. It was a system that would give him relief from everything that was threatening to come down on his head, and, right now, that would be enough.

It was his hour of victory. It was time to make his will a reality.

And then, just as Luc was preparing to finish off Yoona, a great gust of wind suddenly raced through the room, drawing the Nitrozian's confused attention. Bewildered, Luc watched his bedroom tear itself apart before his very eyes, his mouth hanging ajar and the knife slackening in his grip. "What the hell...?" The lawyer murmured, his lack of focus costing him the upper hand. Turning back to face the slave, Luc was met with the massive Chaktawe woman throwing herself back against him, the impact of their bodies colliding throwing the Nitrozian off-balance. His fallen breeches ended up catching around his ankles and he slipped backwards, slamming the back of his head against the wooden floorboards, the knife slipping free of his grasp and landing uselessly in the middle of the room. Stars shimmered before his eyes as his neck reeled back, Luc struggling to see straight in the murky world he now inhabited. "You petching bitch..." he groaned, voice unexpectedly hoarse and raspy. Oh shyke, Luc realized, grasping desperately at his throat. I pushed myself too hard! His neck felt like it was on fire, his every breath a sharp pain inflicted directly to his heart. And that was ignoring the damage that Yoona had wreaked upon him, the bodily impact having scrambled his senses to the point of unintelligibility. Petch... I'm dead. I'm dead, because she's not cornered anymore and I...

I don't have the knife.

Eyes shooting wide, Luc stared at the fallen weapon that now conveniently lay closer to Yoona than it did him. If he tried to grab it, there was no doubt in his mind that the Chaktawe would retaliate and beat him to the blade, and then it would all be over. Hauling himself to his feet, the Nitrozian relied upon the bed frame for support, trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't stand straight without wobbling. He was out of weapons, out of room, out of time to deal with this suddenly extremely dangerous renegade... Luc felt a sudden urge to call for the guards and let them deal with the problem, but stopped himself before he could do it. I won't give them the satisfaction, he resolutely decided, opting instead to regain control of the situation.

And the best way to do that was to project control as loudly as he possibly could.

"Yoona!" He barked, fighting the weakness of his voice to make it sound harsh and commanding. "Enough is enough! If you pick up that knife right now, I will see you dead. Do you understand me?" Drawing himself up to his full height, Luc bared his fists and glared into the Chaktawe's black eyes, trying to outmatch the fury he saw reflected in them. "You may not want to be a martyr, but I swear to Rhysol himself, provoke me and you shall become one. If you so much as strip one hair from my skin, I will call the guards into this room. They'll hold you down, spread your legs, and let me fuck you. Then I'll give them each a turn, until you're raw and bloody and weeping, and then we'll drag you into the city centre and flay you publicly before the eyes of all Ravok. The last thing you'll see is your own flesh hanging off your bones as the crowds jeer from afar, cursing your name and offering praise to their Immortal Lord." He did not try to force any hypnotic power into his words, but delivered them as coldly as he could, trying to work his own threats into vivid life. "And there's worse I could do, much worse... trust me, all of the horror that you've witnessed is nothing compared to what the Stryfe can cook up."

"Issac is coming here tomorrow to pick you up. Do you know what's going to happen to you if he finds me here, dead? You're going to be hunted down and slain." He spat out the word slain, making it clear just how petched she truly was. "Do you know what's going to happen to you if Issac arrives and I tell him what a naughty girl you've been? You're going to be taken back to the barracks and slain. Do you know what's going to happen if you fight your way out of this estate? You'll be caught like a rabid dog and slain. No return home for you. No chance to see your friend again. No second meeting with mother and father. You will be killed, and never get a chance to revisit your beloved Eyktol. And do you know why this is going to happen to you?" This was it. This is the last chance I get. Luc spread his arms wide and channelled everything he had into his howling voice and his piercing eyes and his very being, filling Yoona's mind with a sense of almost godly authority, suggesting to her the impossibility of being anything more than what he decreed she was. "You are a slave. You are a slave, and I AM THE MASTER. I AM YOUR MASTER, AND YOU WILL OBEY ME."

And now, the test.

Exhausted, Luc took a quiet step forward and stretched out his hand. "Give me the knife, Yoona." He growled, staring dead straight into her gaze. "Give me the knife, lay on the bed, and offer yourself up to me."

It was now or never.

[Yoona]

The man went down like bag of stones, his back hitting the floor with a heavy thud. And with his (lesser) weight no longer keeping her pinned, Yoona peeled herself off of the door. 'Alright...alright, calm down,' she mused, placing one lightly-trembling hand on her chest as she tried to slow her breathing. 'Calm down...'

Slowly but surely it returned to normal, the panic that had seized her beginning to release its hold on her mind. The invasive haze seemed to follow suit, and as ticks passed the Chaktawe woman found that she could start to think clearly, again, bits and pieces of her fragmented thoughts coming back to her.

And yet...and yet something was still wrong. Yoona couldn't help but mull over this as she bent down, hastily grabbing her wrap to pull it back up to her waist where it belonged. There was an odd sensation lingering about in her head; one that made her feel...open. Vulnerable, as if she'd been toyed with without realizing it. Whatever Luc had done to her, whatever horrific spell he'd used...it was obvious that it was failing, now, but that didn't change the fact that he'd trespassed into her mind.

That had to be it. She knew the feeling, she knew how easy it was for some to invade the skulls of others, warping and destroying things to their heart's content...

"The knife! Yoona, the knife...!

'Knife...?' she inwardly echoed, Ruki's sudden yells confusing her until her eyes wandered and settled upon the abandoned blade. The man hadn't let go of it since he'd pulled it out of that drawer, but it must have gone flying out of his hand when she'd knocked him down. It was only a few feet away from her, now.

Yoona's gaze darted over to the man, who was staring at the knife with widened eyes. Narrowing hers, she watched him to see if he'd make any moves. Realizing a short moment later that she didn't care, Yoona darted forward and snatched the weapon up off of the ground, her focus shifting back to him as she retreated a little. But it was looking as though he hadn't even bothered to go for it; instead, the bastard was crawling over to his bed and dragging himself to his feet. There'd have been no point in it, anyway. The knife had been the Chaktawe woman's goal ever since Luc had turned on her and, assuming that he hadn't hid any other knives around the room, she'd just given herself an advantage. He was utterly defenseless, now; out of breath, weakened, and looking about ready to collapse.

The man, however, was as stubborn as she was, if not worse. Clearly refusing to accept that he'd lost the upper hand, he gathered up his remaining strength and poured it into one last, venomous torrent of words. Threats, really, all revolving around what would happen if she decided to do something to him. And they were disturbing, the horrific images that they produced growing worse and worse as he went on. It seemed as though she had run out of options, again; whatever choice she made, Luc assured her that it would only end in her subsequent imprisonment or incredibly-gruesome death. And the gibe about her home, about her friends and family, drove an especially sharp pain through her chest, bringing a grimace to her face.

But the Chaktawe woman's eyes hadn't left the knife since she'd gotten a hold of it, and she all but ignored the brute as he spoke, her grip on the hilt gradually tightening. There was no piercing the witch's brew of thoughts that currently swirled about in her head, and each word the man spat only added to the torrid pit of hatred that had begun to grow in her stomach. She felt furious, but stunned and sick, because she'd gone so far as to trust the bastard, if only for a moment. Sick because he hadn't even needed to put any effort into suddenly going against her, into antagonizing her. He could've given less of a shit about her or her life, and she'd been foolish for thinking otherwise.

Yet he'd insisted on being her friend.

'What a petching liar,' Yoona bitterly mused, her lips curving into the faintest of dry smiles as she continued to stare down at the knife. Her knife, now.

Eyes seemingly hollow, she lifted her gaze to Luc and slowly blinked at him as he outstretched his hand, demanding that she hand him the blade and give herself up.

Yoona didn't hesitate with her answer.

"No," she said, her eyes steadily on his for a few more ticks. Then she let her arm drop to her side, and casually made her way over to the bed, swinging the knife back and forth. Without a word, Yoona plopped herself down on one side of the mattress, settling herself in a little before she turned her head to look back at him.

"You want knife?" she asked as she dangled the weapon in front of her face, her tone frigid and daring. "Then come over and get knife."

"Listen to me" - 'I'm thinking'

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

OOCHey hey! Sorry for how late this took - stuff with my other accounts and RL got hectic. Hope this is okay!

Luc couldn't believe it.

The Chaktawe had said no.

He could barely comprehend the fact that the word had reached his ears.

The slave, alone and cornered in his room, helpless and without a chance of surviving on her own, had said no to him.

His posture immediately slumping, conveying defeat, the Nitrozian could only watch Yoona in a shocked daze as she sauntered over to his bed, waving his knife about like it was a toy, seating herself on the mattress as if to declare it hers. And as Luc stared at her, his jaw hanging agape and his restless fingers twitching, he realized that was exactly what she was doing. She's telling me, 'No, and go petch yourself pretty boy. I'm keeping the knife and I'm taking your bed.' White hot fury boiling inside of him, Lucillus grew tempted to throw himself back at her and wrestle the knife from her hands, summon more of that precious Djed and scramble her mind into oblivion, shout for the guards to come deal with this furious little bitch... he wanted to call it 'good sense' that he instead stayed his ground. And while he might be able to convince some people that it was good sense that made him step back from the bed and acquiesce to Yoona's challenge, he knew that many others would call it cowardice. The truly sickening part was that they would be right. The slave, this stupid gods-damned slave, had taunted him, had said, "You want knife? Then come over and get knife." Any Ravokian in their right minds would know that you couldn't let a slave get away with saying that. You had to be firm; you had to ensure that you were respected, or else the slave would forever be wasted due to rebellious thoughts. Luc should have been preparing a way to get that knife out of her hands.

But the thought of coming over there and trying to get that knife scared the living shyke out of him.

Stepping away from the foot of the bed, Lucillus kept staring at Yoona, his jaw working slowly, fists clenching and unclenching. The wheels were turning in his mind, and he knew that he was bound to come up with a solution soon... yet none presented itself. All he could think about was the look on Yoona's face, the daring tone in her words. "You want knife? Then come over and get knife." She knew that he wasn't strong enough to attempt something like that. She knew that she had all the power in this situation. And, Rhysol be petched, she was right. Luc could have called for the guards to teach her a few lessons, but what example would that set to his already disapproving family? What mocking words would they use to describe him then, this fool with his pants caught around his legs being menaced by a female slave with a knife? And he could try tapping into his magic again, but that was an ill-advised route. His mouth was thick with the taste of cooper, and he reckoned that he would soon pop a blood vessel after the amount of Djed he had expended today. There was no beating Yoona. There was no trying to. It was all over; the slave had won, and all he could do was watch as the Chaktawe savage kicked him out of his own bed.

"PETCHING SHYKE!" The man howled, his voice hoarse and face blowing up into a red conflagration. Searching about for something to vent his anger on, Luc seized the vase that Yoona had apprehended and slammed it into the far wall, the pieces flying in every direction. "I HOPE RHYSOL HIMSELF TAKES A FLAMING PISS ON YOUR CORPSE! I HOPE HE WASHES ALL OF EYKTOL INTO THE FUCKING SEA!" He might have shouted more, but at that point his voice grew hoarse and vanished on him, and Luc was left to vainly paw at his throat. Stumbling backwards from the bed, the lawyer caught his back against the far wall and sank to the ground, staring at Yoona from across the room. So this is how our little fight ends. With her on my damned bed and me stuck on the floor. The Nitrozian tried to lift himself off the ground but found that it was too much effort - keeping his eyes on Yoona all the while, he finally gave a frustrated sigh and pulled his breeches up so that at least his groin was covered. And then he settled further against the wall, made himself comfortable, and watched Yoona.

He watched her for as long as she would watch him.

- - -

"Huh?" Luc started, eyes fluttering open when he realized that he had dozed off into sleep. It was a simple thing - his head had simply bowed forward and his vision blacked out temporarily - but when he next beheld the bedroom, the light from the windows had gotten terribly dark. So dark, in fact, that the Nitrozian could not see anything of his room save for a few vague, indiscriminate shadows that wavered menacingly in the pale moonlight. Squinting, Luc tried to make sense of what he saw before him, and failed... if Yoona was in that darkness, then he was helpless to spot her. How long has it been? He wondered, figuring that it was around midday when he first entered his room and she had followed him inside. Long bells had passed since their little stalemate had begun. In that time, he couldn't recall either of them saying a word or indeed moving a muscle from their positions, lest they give the other the satisfaction of being uncomfortable. Perhaps Yoona was asleep now, having drifted off into the same weary state that he now found himself in? It was possible... but Luc wasn't willing to bet his life on that fact. For the moment, he was trapped with the uncertainty of what awaited him in the shadows.

Figuring that there was nothing to do but wait, Luc drew up his knees and rested his head against them. Blinking away his fatigue, the Nitrozian, detached from his former fury, tried to comprehend what had transpired in the last day of events. I am being kicked out of my home. I have lost sway with Sitanos, lost favour with my family, and lost control over my slaves. Yoona is going to leave here in better terms than I am come the morrow. I have managed to offend the last person that thought I was worth something, that thought I was good... hell, I had tried to rape her. This has been... one shykestorm of a day. What's more, as he sat there on the ground, Luc could feel the slow trickles of blood that were now forming on his cheeks, as his eyes continued to bleed and bleed and bleed from his over usage of Hypnotism. His mouth joined in the effect, making his white shirt a red mess and his body feel malnourished. Luc might have fainted if he wasn't so damne exhausted. I might die by the morning, he realized, thinking about how much blood he had lost over the last few bells. And if I don't die, I'm definitely not going to be fit to do.... anything, really. The thought sapped the strength from his bones.

Leaning his head against the wall, Luc blinked away the bloody tears and closed his eyes. He might have gone back to sleep, had some maddening urge not compelled him to whisper in a raspy voice, "Yoona...?"

[Yoona]

OOCAhgawd I accidentally closed the tab on this the first time I wrote it, and couldn't get it back...e___e

Yoona's gaze never strayed from Luc, the abysmal depths of her coal-black eyes brimming with hatred, every muscle beneath her skin tense enough to make her limbs ache. Not having the slightest idea as to what the man would do, now, if anything, she let her fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife. It'd be an incredibly foolish move, but if he decided to come at her she needed to be ready; the man's vulgar threats still floated about in Yoona's skull like an enraged swarm of hornets, jabbing at the withered walls of her mind in the hopes of recreating that crippling fear, that near-overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, of vulnerability, but she wouldn't let them.

No, the time for cowering and pleading for help had come and gone. And if this wretch thought that the simple threat of death was going to keep her from stripping the flesh off of his bones...

Her eyes narrowing, the Chaktawe woman continued to watch him, silently daring him to take so much as a single step toward her. Why was he even hesitating, now? He'd been doing so well, a short while ago, with that vile mind-probing of his and the filth that had been dripping off of his tongue. But now that she'd gotten a hold of his little blade, it was looking as though he didn't want to get anywhere near her.

'Suddenly afraid, are we?' Yoona inwardly taunted. 'Oh c'mon, there's nothing to be worried about. I'm nothing but a pathetic, defenseless slave, aren't I?'

All of a sudden the bastard came to life, howling with voice-cracking rage as he seized the vase she'd nabbed earlier and hurled it at the wall. The suddenness of it all made the Chaktawe woman flinch, but that was it, really. Luc screeched some more, throwing empty insults at her before he promptly fell quiet and slumped to the ground, exhausted. Then the room sunk into complete and utter silence, and after a few chimes the man seemed to doze off. Yoona had watched him fight it, had seen the strain that he'd forced onto his body creep up on him and make his eyelids flutter, and in the end he'd lost, his head lolling forward to hang heavily over his lap, leaving her more or less alone.

There was no way in Hai that she was going to sleep, so she didn't. Little by little, the tension that had stiffened her body began to ebb away, and she found her mind wandering back to the last few bells. It was almost ridiculous, how quickly things had fallen apart...and yet here she was, feeling somewhat sick to her stomach while that bastard slept a few feet away. It was because of him that she was in this horrid mess.

...no. It was because of both of them. Though she didn't regret striking Isaac in his half-drunken face, she could have easily avoided all of this if she'd restrained herself, in that moment. And then Luc had come waltzing in, making himself out to be a selfless-petching-saint; a gem amidst the stinking pile of waste that was the lake-bound city.

But it'd been a lie. All of it. Waste was waste, no matter how pretty you made it look.

The chimes went by, and Yoona's bitterness and hate gradually turned inward as she mulled over things, finding more reasons to place the blame on her own shoulders. Before long, however, she stopped, and reminded herself of who the real villain was. When Luc awoke some time later, he seemed to bring the stench of blood with him, the pungent scent sitting heavily in the stagnant air of the room. Yoona craned her neck to try and get a better look at him, confused, but then he parted his lips to speak, and she shrank back into the shadows of the bed.

Of all things, he'd decided to call her name. What for? Was he checking to see whether or not she'd left? For a brief moment, the Chaktawe woman considered not answering, wanting to make him think that she'd either gone, fallen asleep, or was ignoring him. But she ended up speaking, using her native tongue as opposed to the near-butchered Common. Too much had been weighing down on her mind, as of late, and there were simply too many things that she needed to say, even if the man couldn't understand her. Especially if he couldn't understand her.

"I made a huge mistake," Yoona began, her voice cold. "Trusting you, I mean; that was my mistake. Isaac knew what the hell was coming when he tried to touch me, but you...? Bargaining with the Stryfe to help out some slave you'd never met, before? Do you realize how twisted that sounds? And I went along with it, wanting to think that I would be wrong...so if you're looking for some sort of victory, some sort of triumph in all of this, there's one. You surprised me. Tricked me. I trusted you, and you turned around and stabbed me in the petching back.

"Then again, what was it I was expecting? That maybe, just maybe, I'd found someone who was worth something? Someone who wasn't cruel and black-hearted like every man, woman, and child in this wretched place, like the ones I've met? Someone different...someone good? Ha...it doesn't even petching matter, anymore. You helped me to help yourself, and I was a fool."

With a wild shrug, Yoona threw her hands up in the air, the knife still firmly clutched in one. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, as if some terrible headache had come over her.

"You're horrible," she said after a moment, reverting back to Common and staring blankly at him from the gathering darkness. Oddly enough, there was no anger in her words; if anything, the Chaktawe woman sounded as though she pitied the man a little, her tone dull yet saddened and hateful all at once. "Horrible, horrible man. And I was stupid for thinking anything else. What do you want from me, now? What more things you want to say? Things about slaves, about me? About how I going to die, soon? About how you going to die soon, and I should get help? Go on. Spit it out. You were speaking so much, before; now is no different."

"Listen to me" - 'I'm thinking'