He didn't question the Initiate's muteness or the way his shaking hand made his words harder to read. He had no right to question him at all. "Free" did not compute. He had no business being free. He did not remember ever being free.

"Helmsman doethn't remember friendth."

He dared to look up at the troll who called himself a friend. Yes, definitely familiar. He looked like that highblood who got tangled up with him, the mutant, and the rebellion here in Panem. He couldn't believe that he would do these things, so he didn't. It hurt, these dreams—hallucinations—whatever—because they called up some old feeling, something he couldn't place. He'd done this before, and the mutant was there, too. Where, when? Helmsman pushed the thought away. Helmstrolls had no place having deja vu, yet here he was glitching out. He truly was a broken piece of pissblood shit.

"Helmsman apologizeth. Helmsman doethn't remember. Pleathe input your title or name," he said mournfully. His hands shook enough that he couldn't hold his pencil. It clattered on the table. "Permithion to pauthe thtar chart compilation?" he rushed his request belatedly.