->Arrow

But I think Blair wouldn't see it that way. He'd say:

The first thing I did when I met Jim Ellison was lie to him. The man was terrified he was gravely ill, and I played on his desperation and spun him a bullshit song and dance. I've been lying ever since, a lie of omission--the truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. He trusts me every day with his senses, his sanity, his life and his career, and I'm making all this shit it up as I go along.

I've always been a liar. An obfuscator. Naomi taught me just how to get what I needed out of people--a place to stay for the night, for a week, for a month; an extension on a paper; twenty bucks for food. I've been mooching off of Jim for three years now--this must be a record for me.

And you know, he just takes it, man. He needs me, and I play that. When some whacked out shit happens with his senses, and his reaction is "Oh God, what's wrong with me?" my first reaction is "cool! More data!" It makes me ashamed, but I can't help it--the scientist in me is numero uno. I see him through that lens, first. My pet lab monkey. My Sentinel.

It sucks, because I can see he needs more from me, when he's blind and scared, or when he's crushed by the input. Help me, he says, and I know he needs more than flippant reassurances and tissue-paper theories. He needs a friend. But a scientist has to be objective, right?

Oh, God, what am I doing?