[Like with Sylvie, the individual words make sense, but strung together, it forms some kind of picture he isn't sure he's even equipped to see.

But it also sounds familiar in a way that unsettles him.]

I don't remember my childhood. [And then he clamps his mouth shut after that, swirling the liquid in its glass and being far more interested in that.

When he opens his mouth again:] I don't draw up battle plans; I just do what I'm told, mostly. But I've always had an insightful and inquisitive mind. I like to think I'm smart. Then I get proven wrong time and again.