[ There's something strange about Amory Felix today. For one, the uncanny brightness of his stare. Then there's his relaxed posture and just the general ease of contentment that seems to emanate from him, belying the dark circles beneath his eye and the swallow color of his skin.
He stands in front of a workshop table, cluttered with various diagrams and paper, some depicting diagrams, others covered with lines of mathematical formula. In the corner of the table, you can see a book--Cosmology by Sean M. Carroll. And behind him, you can see part of the DeLorean --- yes, yes, he is in Doc Brown's workshop. ]
That curse we had a few days ago--
[ He raises an eyebrow. ]
You know, the one where everyone was being incredibly frank.
[ Despite his usual diatribes, it's hard to tell whether he's being perfectly serious, for his tone is notably jocund. He's having fun. As he talks, he tinkers with some type of mechanical device, unaware that his fingers are shaking.]
When I was nine, my father taught me that to get anything accomplished, you need to be disingenuous. You have to say what you mean to say without saying it at all. Because nobody wants to hear the truth, even if they say otherwise, even if ultimately proves beneficial.
Except-- I realized that I liked being earnest.
[ The slightest grin pulls at his lips. ]
Come on, you can't tell me it didn't feel great to say what you truly felt.