[Costigan stared at the floor as Bourne spoke, listening with an even sort of expression despite the pain that began to fester inside of him. His eyes were fixed upon a knot of wood at the base of one of the legs of his desk, as though not looking at the warden might make his words cut less deeply. 'You seemed happier.' It was enough to make the inmate sick and there was no question in his mind, in that moment, that he still needed the medications and there was no way he could get over them right now.]

"You're sorry?" [His voice sounded strangely detached, trying to stifle the frustration, hurt, and sheer confusion that the words might bring him. Shaking his head for a second, his eyes then met Bourne's with a fierce intensity that held all determination the inmate could muster, which was quite the sum.] "Fuck you. You're right that you have no-- no fucking right to make that choice. Here I thought we were supposed to be fucking friends and what-- what is this? You just decide what's best for me while--" [He put two fingers to his head to mime a gun.] "--the Admiral's fucking with my mind and my memories? If you forgot about Marie or some shit, you think you wouldn't want me to tell you about it?"

[He stood, moving toward the door.] "You're fucking ridiculous. Get the fuck out of my room."