[ You really are losing it, a part of him says. Desmond knows that tone (they've used it so many times; we're used it so many times?), knows the man behind him, and at the same time doesn't know the first thing. But, well, if he is losing it, there's nothing really left to lose, is there?

(Desmond holds himself together as best he can, but the edges are rough.)

Breath in, out, legs dropping over the edge of the roof so Desmond can rest his elbows on his thighs. ]

This is going to sound absolutely insane, but just-- bear with me, all right? You don't know me, but I know you. Have you... [ An almost sheepish wave of his hand. Just how much is Desmond supposed to say? Not to say? ] Learned the truth about Al Mualim?

[ Please, please, please don't kill him, okay? ]