The question calls to mind a number of memories; the projection was patterned a lot like his own mind, after all. Thus, his first instinct is to ask why it matters, but that sounds childish, then his next instinct is to lie, but the idea of the wardens going “erm, actually” pisses him off— just thinking about getting caught in that kind of miserable correction over a shift of a couple years is too painful to stand.
Whatever, fuck that projection, they must all be thinking of him like some punkass kid with daddy issues now? Ugh. Ughh.
He flicks his thumb against his finger, not missing the coat, but lacking things to fidget with now, “Twenty-three.”
