( His lips twitch as if he wants to smile but trains himself not to. Hard to hold back that sense of high coming from the feeling of controlling someone. It's a brief spike of dopamine that ebbs away as soon as it's over, but one can see it in his eyes. The insanity past his courteous posture and politeness. Perhaps he can save the people here, too, if they abide by his orders like this. One thought transcends another, and the distant voice in this pastel dreamland calls out to him once again. Come back to me. It says.

Sunday swallows thickly and closes his eyes briefly to wish it away. Best to gaze upon Six, his beautiful complexion, his unique mark, and his eyes. Why would he feel shy about being this genetically gifted? Who hurt him! )

You're right. I have never heard of the term, but thank you. I won't say that I trust you but I like your obedience.

To answer your other question, my Master didn't convince me. He encouraged me to do so and he let me have the final say. It was my choice.

( That's what Sunday still believes, even if he accepts that Mr. Gopher Wood might have wished for him to make that exact choice. )

You can put your mask back on, Mr. Six. You seem quite...Nervous without it. There's no need to be. I also don't wish to bring you any harm, you see.