No, [ Sam answers slowly, as if speaking to Ainsley about obvious Republican nonsense or to some other sadly deficient audience. ] I just finally reached a point where the stress of the past year and a half has so thoroughly warped my mind that I'm sitting on some pavement outside a polling place while I stare into space.

[ At least he's not flipping out about his very obvious breakdown. He can be proud of that much at least. Just another of the mass of men living lives of quiet desperation. The Fletchling, in apparent concern, chirps in inquiry before gently headbutting Sam's ear. ]

...Which, now that I think about it, shouldn't be me at all. If anybody's going to crack it'd definitely be you. [ Since, you know, you kind of already did it once, what with the PTSD and all. Wait. That might be a little uncouth even if it is all in his mind. That's no excuse for bad manners. ] No offense.