"Alright." She sat down across from us. "I am Mrs. White, 
and the surrogate head of the Cabal. Twelve other members and 

Inetesting that she continues to call herself 'Mrs.' 
No comma

 "Excuse me, I have a question. Just how old are you?"

Polite and rude. Screw's usual charm.

 "I took Alethea in a month ago, shortly after she ran away 

>from home. The city is certainly no place for young girls to be 

wandering around alone. Unfortunately she couldn't find anyone 
more trustworthy than this 'Zig.'"

Screw: Hey! What about me?
Probably not actually as that sentence drips of BS.

 "So you're a bunch of terrorists." I was feeling 
uncomfortable again and it was making me act like a prick.

again, and 

When you have been around as long as I, Screw, then you 
can judge the morality of rebellion."

She's judging by who she sees herself to be as well as what she
does. Interesting.

I sat down in disgust. "And you can bet your last box of 
Depends that I ain't helping you do that shit, either."

Screw's the opposite, reacing almost totally to empirical
evidence. As his evidence is relatively limited, his view point's
flaws are as odvious. Again, interesting.

I think their argument at this point is Mrs. White trying to sell
screw on the Cabal, while he's considering becoming a
insurrectionist. The two aren't exactly different, but not
exactly the same.

 "I remember there being a lot of 'group time.' Big 
cockroaches. And everyone agreed that the food was just 
unacceptable."

Ha!

 "Anything else?" she asked, lowering her eyebrows.
I shook my head. "I learned how to speak prison lingo. 
Wanna hear some?"

Paragraph break

 "God no.

"God, no.

I told the Warden to shove it, and got two weeks in the hole.

it and 

that Chris tells me it would sometimes directly 
take control of your faculties, and you would enter a dream like 
state. This ring any bells?"

And start dreaming of racing, perhaps?

His ability dwarfed Wells' and he uses no help. 

Wells', and

There was a nice wooden bench in the lavishly decorated hallway and I stopped >to poke digits.

hallway, 

 "My boys livin in style! When are you coming back?"

boy's I think

 "Well, you didn't hear it from me, but this weekend there's 
supposed to be a riot. City wide. Maybe gang war and Shock 
Troop involvement."

Isn't that supposed to be next weekend?

It seems Mrs. White tailors her argument for whoever she's
talking too. She started high and noble, saw that wasn't working,
and got gritty fairly quickly. She even started swearing. I felt
so proud. Screw's left alone, thinking. And Chris is Benedict,
isn't he?

Miashara

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