Who the hell is they, he wants to ask, but there's every chance that it won't matter - that Connecticut herself might not even know. Her hand floats out, groping for someone that's no longer tethering her. Because it feels...almost normal, he drops his hand back to her shoulder.

"We don't know for sure if that's what's going on right now. Right now, it's just us. I don't see anyone else." He tries to follow that up - tries to say her name, like that might assure her that he's starting to become relatively compos mentis, but she'd introduced herself as Connie and a memory of her snapping that it makes her sound like a fucking kid stops him dead. C.T.?

Was that his memory?

"Do you know who...they were?"