Bourne watches the procedure with equal parts fascination, revulsion, and hate. He'd always kept the idea of forced-rat morph in the back of his head as a punishment for David - a punishment of absolute last resort. But what David had done could not be forgiven; he had simply pushed too far, and Bourne's tolerance had snapped.

The morph completed, he bends down to pick up the rat in his good hand. David might bite him; fine. What was one more injury to hold against the little bastard?

Rat in hand, he requests a glass aquarium from the Admiral, with accoutrements befitting its new occupant - a water bottle, soft pine shavings lining it, and a little wheel to run in.

What? He's not going to deprive his inmate of amusement, that would be barbaric.