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Summary
Through the looking glass, the one-eyed man was carefully painting an orange and black butterfly onto the wall. “We too cheap to give him painting paper or what?” Jack asked, hands pressed to his hips.
Beside him, Ginger shrugged. She was monitoring the stranger’s vitals through a tablet, occasionally pausing to adjust her glasses. “We tried. He prefers the walls.”
“So it’s quite possible this nanowhatsit treatment seriously fucked him up the way it kinda fucked me up,” Jack said, grimacing, “except that when my brain took a holiday I hit on everyone in the room, including Champ, while John Doe here seems to have fixed on butterflies.”
“When your brain ‘took a holiday’ you did indeed regress into some sort of sex-addicted Neanderthal state,” Ginger said blandly, flicking through John Doe’s medical statistics, “which, I might add, says a lot about your character, even if Agent Tequila thought it was hilarious at the time.”
Series
- Part 1 of Pax Americana