Jesse, gathering resolve, forces himself to actually focus on the thing in front of him, taking in the very convincing details of the illusion. This close scrutiny is probably not very polite, but it's happening all the same.

Maybe it's the distance he's putting between himself and the mysterious analyst's desk, but a soothing logic is beginning to chip away at the dark veneer. Wels in the Nexus? Something about that doesn't make sense.

His gun arm finally falls to his side. For once in his life, Jesse doesn't shoot first and ask questions later. Or he just remembered the anti-violence field through his fear-addled state.

"Fine. So long as you don't hurt anyone."