[ there's a little spark of something awful in very dark green eyes. the impostor tilts its head slightly, doing nothing to struggle away from the tight grip. in fact, it leans in closer, perfectly content to chuckle in response and roll its eyes to the side. ]

What's next, Noble?

[ the way nureyev's alias sounds past it's lips seems to mock the two syllables it takes up. ]

Now that you've figured it out, you're gonna do what? "Dispose of me"? That easy for you, huh? [ a beat, as if thinking. ] Nevermind, dumb question, my mistake. That's exactly what you're going to do, isn't it?