"What are you reading?" Michael drops a folder of papers on my desk.
"A paper on amygdala damage and emotional memory," I flip back to the front page, "It's by Adolphs, published in 2005."
"I don't care about the paper. I meant, why are you reading that? Don't you have something else to do?" He crosses his arms, and for a moment I'm briefly transported back to our time in the Nikolav lab. He's exactly the same as he was then: bossy and impatient. That's Michael for you.
I smile at the memory, and he just continues glaring at me expectantly.
I briefly debate telling him what Rumlow told me about the subject being periodically wiped. Michael's background is in systems neuroscience, so his knowledge in brain structure might help me decipher how they managed to do it.
Then I remember Dr. Jones' cautionary words earlier, and I think twice about telling him.
"It's pleasure reading." I frown, putting the paper down. "I just suddenly took an interest in the amygdala, that's all."
"Well, take an interest in your work instead. Although I guess it's not an issue, since you seem right at home with everyone." He grumbles, seating himself at the desk across from me.
"Why are you so damn bitter?" I glare at him.
"Because you're naïve. You don't understand the gravity of the situation at all." His eyes flicker to the doorway and he lowers his voice, "And you don't listen to me. Do you think I'm just a paranoid nut, Elise? Because I'm paranoid for very good reasons."
I stare at him in silence, my brows still furrowed in irritation.
He's right to be paranoid, though. It's only been a week and I've already received subtle hints from three people that I'm treading a fine line with my questions. And it's not like I've been asking about things that would obviously be considered confidential. I'm asking about the basics.
I know I'm not level 7 or 8 security clearance. I'm barely level 5. But I'm not used to conducting research without knowing all the facts. They should understand that it's hard to get used to.
"You were so excited about the censor-less environment when I first arrived." I comment.
"Yeah, well… that was before. After the subject arrived, everything changed. I can't handle it. I want to transfer out." He opens his laptop.
"You know you can't do that. Pierce says the only way out is death." For once I feel a little concerned about Michael. What exactly does he plan to do?
"I doubt they want me dead that badly. It's not like I've ever fit in here." He snorts.
"I don't think you should." I didn't mean to sound so insistent, but that's just how it came out. He raises a questioning eyebrow at me.
"What do you know?" His eyes bore into me, his voice lowered.
Should I tell him? The things Dr. Jones said about kill orders. About him being under investigation.
I don't know how he'll react, and I don't know how it'll implicate me.
"Nothing. I just don't think you should. It's safer here." I reply, averting my gaze from his face.
I just… don't want to do anything stupid. Is that selfish?
"Yeah, being surrounded by armed killers all day is so much safer." He scoffs.
Well, better to stay under their noses than to be in their cross-hairs.