"I think mine would be better off," Dimitri mutters. His gut wrenches. It's never been more than a half-thought, a feeling unformed and carefully avoided -- he couldn't even put it to words, when his own mind isn't exactly private, let alone give it voice. But it's lurked there nonetheless, persistent, because -- "No one life should ever be worth that much."

He takes another, longer look at the timer, then shakes his head. "I'd like to hear what you have to ask me, but ... not now. I stand by what I've said to you, and I will, but it's ... hard to retain focus, in the face of the morals I was raised with." The world's beginning to warp around him, slippery and uncertain, whispers creeping in at the edges, and it takes all his strength to dig his nails into the path he's chosen. "Another time. When things have settled." And when he can think more clearly.