[ Jefferson isn't sitting with Sam, but he's sitting... back-to-back with him, on the other side of his booth. So he can hear the mumbling, the repetitious recitation of a name and job. And he'd be sympathetic to it, except that at this point, remembering (at least) three different lives and being unable to tell which one's real and which isn't, Jefferson's got too many of his own problems to worry about.
Like this magazine quiz he's trying to take. It's supposed to be a fun, easy, light distraction from the maelstrom of delusions in his mind... except he's been on the same question for fifteen minutes now, and all he can think is My name is Sam Seaborn. I work for the President of the United States.
Finally, he twists in his seat, folds his arms over the top of the booth partition, and leans in so that his face is right by Sam's ear.
Enjoy him suddenly speaking up now: ] And why did the president send you here, to the middle of nowhere?
no subject
Like this magazine quiz he's trying to take. It's supposed to be a fun, easy, light distraction from the maelstrom of delusions in his mind... except he's been on the same question for fifteen minutes now, and all he can think is My name is Sam Seaborn. I work for the President of the United States.
Finally, he twists in his seat, folds his arms over the top of the booth partition, and leans in so that his face is right by Sam's ear.
Enjoy him suddenly speaking up now: ] And why did the president send you here, to the middle of nowhere?