The Comfort Of The Knife Dialogue 1

Interrogator F: Can you tell your na?

Hybridae - BW11: Why? You already know who I am—everyone does.

Interrogator F: We do, but I want to know what you know. S—

Hybridae - BW11: I have two nas. Which do you want?

Interrogator F: Whichever you'd prefer we use for docuntation. We like to honor people's wishes about these things. Nas are important.

Hybridae - BW11: And what about my wish for you to get fucked and let go!

A pause. Stretches for ten seconds. Interrogator is bemused.

Nadia T.: Nadia Temple…I don't want you using the other one. It's special.

Interrogator F: It was your cover for—

Nadia T.: Don't use it. Unless you want to bite my fucking tongue off, and make sure that whatever you want from you don't get.

Interrogator F: Understood. So, Ms. Temple, tell what happened.

Nadia T.: Alls below, you already know, stop fishing for more shit to pin on …I've already done enough…too much. Brightgate, the war—

Interrogator F: Tell about the war. Can you…tell about the war?

Nadia T.: Sure, it's hard to forget I an there were the grand companies, the treks through the Underside, the…um, those weird…fuck. It was a lot, okay. All your fancy docuntation doesn't have this written down sowhere?

Interrogator F: Do you not rem—

Nadia T.: I do! I do…rember so of it. It's just…

Interrogator F: Jumbled?

Nadia T.: A bit, but even if I did rember you grabbed the wrong girl. My sis is the storyteller, and I'm the killer. The monster. The biggest liar this side of the Black Vein.

Interrogator F: Is that how you see yourself?

Nadia T.: It's how everyone sees . They know the stories.

Interrogator F: They know so stories, but I want yours—I am a captive audience.

Nadia T.: More like I'm the captive teller.

They both chuckle.

Nadia T.: Where do I start?

Interrogator F: The earliest thing you rember.

Nadia T.: I ca back to life.

Interrogator F: And what was that like?

Nadia T.: It wasn't with a sudden gasp, or whatever Lie soone's spinning on the NewNet. What it's like, is a rush of sensation, the primordial soup that gives rise—no—return to feelings…