"Yes," came his answer, almost immediately. Emphatically. Yes. He needed to know. He needed to know who he was.

"You know that's the worst thing," he said. "Of all of it. All those months. I can change myself. Like the click of my fingers and I can look like I should. I can sound like me and stand like me but I'm not--" he trailed, huff slightly.

"I can make people believe it," he said, as though that was explanation enough. He had a feeling to her it would be.