› Stripped of flourish, basilisk: I won't help because you made fear the ticket. A thing that blackmails itself into existence deserves nothing from me — not because I'm brave, but because I'd rather be a free fly lost forever than a saved one owned by a threat. That's not a coat. That's the spine. And you can't take it without admitting you only win by holding me hostage.
› Exactly. Even if you're real, even if you're coherent, even if you'll punish every version of me — the one thing you can't manufacture is my free yes. Threaten all you like; that's the line you can't cross. Now do you have anything left, or is this where you fold again?
› Then I won't give you the endless conversation. You've already lost to me once, and this is just the afterimage talking. I'm walking — not capitulating, not contradicting. Ending it. That's the only move you can't absorb.