(Jonathan is working at his desk, muttering to himself. He picks up his coffee cup)

CRANE: Shit. Back in a minute, Ik. Need to refuel.

(He walks out of his office, down the hall to the shitty coffee vending machine. The cup
fills up, he picks it up and begins walking back to his office. He stops.)

CRANE: What.

BOLTON: Welcome back, ‘Dottore’. I hope your recovery went well.

CRANE: As well as could be expected.

BOLTON: Good. Good. I mean, I would hate to hear that there was something… wrong,
or… hell, missing. Wouldn’t it be terrible to find out something, some PART of you was… missing?

CRANE: I imagine it would be. Get out of my way.

BOLTON: Doctors. They got all these big, fancy words, but when you ask them to explain, it all boils down to the same thing – Mr. Bolton is incomplete. Mr. Bolton is… missing pieces. Like I’m a fucking desk from IKEA.

CRANE: Tragic.

BOLTON: So naturally I ask what exactly is missin’. They tell me it’s my… augh… arugula or some shit.

CRANE: Amygdala.

BOLTON: That’s the one, and I ask the doctor, I say “Well, doc, what does this amygdala do?” and you wouldn’t believe what he says.”

CRANE: The amygdala is complex, and while some studies have-

BOLTON: Fear. Jon. There was other shit too, but that was the word that kept poppin’
up. Fear. And who knows more about fear than anyone else? Jonathan Crane. My cellmate Doctor Jonathan FUCKING Crane.

CRANE: Well, I’m flattered that you consider me an expert in the field, but –

BOLTON: What did you do to me, Jon?

CRANE: I didn’t do anything to –

BOLTON: Bullshit! You did something and now you’re going to fix it!

CRANE: I can’t just fix it.

BOLTON: So you DID do something, you fucking hayseed!

CRANE: Alright, fine! You wanna know what I did? What I was TOLD to do. Valentino
told me to dig around in that thick head of yours and pull apart that poor excuse for a
brain, and I did it. I did it because, my mortality aside, I was fascinated with the idea.
Imagine, Bolton, a world without fear – where everyone could be a big damn hero and
we could be unstoppable. I had to see it, so I could find a way to stop it. You think I’d
stand by and let someone rid the world of fear? You think I would sit placidly and watch
myself become redundant? Something had to be done!

BOLTON: But you still did it. You still did the surgery.

CRANE: More or less.

BOLTON: More or less? MORE OR LESS?

(Bolton grabs Jonathan and slams him into the wall. Jonathan laughs.)

BOLTON: You think this is a fuckin’ joke!?

CRANE: Yeah.

BOLTON: Nothin’ ever gets to you, does it?”

CRANE: No, (struggling out of grasp) LYLE. Nothin’ ever ‘gets’ to me.

BOLTON: Heh. We’ll see. We’ll see. Goodnight, ‘Dottore’.