"I don't have any memories, not real ones, of before here," I say. I have memories of sorts, but not real ones. Just training and instincts drilled into me from somewhere and somewhen. There are no people or places or things though.

"So I don't know anything about myself. What kind of person I am or was. Once I met you I knew something about myself for the first time. I knew I wanted to be with you as much as possible and... and take care of you. You can take care of yourself, but I want to take care of you because you deserve it. I follow you around even when you don't think I'm around, even though I know it's... weird. But I can't help it. Every part of my being just wants nothing more than to be with you."