[Scott runs a hand across his jaw, staring at the floor between them all. He can smell how afraid they all are, how agitated Lydia is with the path their thoughts are traveling, and he's trying so hard to push it away.]

Lacrosse, I guess? I got the feeling he only bothered when there were...inmates to use for target practice.

[He grimaces, but it's a step in the right direction: he's completely detached himself from the other him. He just doesn't want more memories of it.]

Prada, Roscoe, lacrosse. We can test each other, and if one or two of us don't recognize it, then...whoever's unaffected needs to stay safe.

[He says it knowing it's not likely to happen. They all care too much.]