Briefly, an impossible thought: Maybe it is...

"I can't go on with this," he says. "Staying inside."

"It'll get better, Karl. It's always hard at first."

"Oh God, Len. You don't have a clue. You still think I'm some sort of junkie."

"Karl—"

"You think I don't know what addiction is? You think I can't tell the difference?"

She doesn't answer.

He manages a small, sad laugh. "I'm losing it, Len. You're forcing me to lose it. Why in God's name do you want me this way?"

"Because this is who you are, Karl. Outside isn't you. Outside's a distortion."

"Outside I'm not an asshole. Outside I don't make everyone hate me."

"No." She hugs him. "If controlling your temper means seeing you turn into something else, seeing you doped up all the time, then I'll take my chances with the original."

Acton looks at her. "I hate this. Jesus Christ, Len. Won't you ever get tired of people who kick the shit out of you?"

"That's a really nasty thing to say," she remarks quietly.

"I don't think so. I can remember some things I saw out there, Len. It's like you need —I mean God, Lenie, there's so much hate in all of you..."

She's never heard him speak like this. Not even outside. "You've got a bit of that in you too, you know."

"Yeah. I thought it made me different. I thought it gave me...an edge, you know?"

"It does."

He shakes his head. "Oh, no. Not next to you."

"Don't underrate yourself. You don't see me trying to take on the whole station."

"That's just it, Len. I blow it off all the time, I waste it on stupid shit like this. But you— you hoard it." His expression changes, she's not exactly sure what to. Concern, maybe. Worry. "Sometimes you scare me more than Lubin does. You never lash out, or beat on anybody — Christ, it's a major event when you even raise your voice — so it just builds up. It's got its up side, I guess." He manages a soft laugh. "Hatred's a great fuel source. If anything ever—activated you, you'd be unstoppable. But now, you're just—toxic. I don't think you really know how much hate you've got in you."

Pity?

Something inside her goes suddenly cool. "Don't play therapist with me, Karl. Just because your nerves fire too fast doesn't mean you've got second sight. You don't know me that well."

Of course not. Or you wouldn't be with me.

"Not in here." He smiles, but that strange sick expression keeps showing through behind. "Outside, at least, I can see things. In here I'm blind."

"You're in the land of the blind." She says curtly. "It's not a drawback."

"Really? Would you stay here if it meant getting your eyes cut out? Would you stay some place that rotted your brain out piece by piece, turned you from a human being into a fucking monkey?"