[This close to her, the dizziness is bound to set in. She leans toward the two men, head tilting. They're wrong. They're filthy and uneven and imperfect and she is pained by it because they were defined as 'friend' and she sees more and more clearly that they fit none of the necessary criteria for that designation.]

That does not make sense. Your face does not make sense. You do not make sense and you are incorrect. I will correct this now.

[She shifts, taking another step closer as the living, breathing Ecks plunges her hand between the stuffed animals packed in her duffel, reaching for the hatchet buried among them. There is a moment, just a brief moment, before the two Eckses act.]