[The man standing in the mess hall turns at the sound, staring at the boy with a gaze that could probably last for years. No getting into staring contests with Royce Bracket, you'll probably lose.]
[He's silent, before finally he speaks up, his voice surprisingly frail:]
...No. I'm not. [A beat.] I don't, uh, think anyone is.
B
[He's silent, before finally he speaks up, his voice surprisingly frail:]
...No. I'm not. [A beat.] I don't, uh, think anyone is.