She's one of you. ( The wooden fox mask he wears on his face is starting to show the cracks of wear and tear — a cheap make betraying itself. He nudges it pointedly up until the holes of his eyes fit just right, allowing him to stare. )

You're not from here. Don't lie to me. No one should lie to me. ( And why? )

Why are you here? Here-here. This citadel-here.