Lee shook his head. He did want to tell Dustin---Steel, what a good name for a spy that wasn't supposed to feel---but suddenly felt cold with worry. If he didn't even remember his past, did he even remember who he was as a person? Telling him what he was and knowing it might not be the same now tore at Lee's newly exposed defenses and felt very odd, very painful. Very... awful. He shook his head again, covering the tattoo and pulling his sleeve down, clenching his other hand so he wouldn't have the urge to scratch again.

"I... don't think I can tell you. I don't know if I should. It's... It'd hurt way too much than I'm prepared to handle if you... if they took everything. They took you. Whoever made you a spy, made you what you are now. They took all of you and inserted some... damned cyborg and it's almost as if when you're sleeping, that cyborg is pushed away and you have a few minutes to try to find something... something that might be you, but all your memories are so scrambled that it's just... so hard to put them together. And I'm worried that you'll never believe me." He laughed harshly. "And hell, I don't know what I'd do if you didn't believe me." He thought back, remembering a piece of what he'd said, or what Dustin had said. He'd lost most of that particular memory. They'd promised to come back for the jar they'd buried, but the date had slipped his mind. When?