Re: log: dylan & max (daniel & lin too)
[Lin wasn't losing anything, and he wasn't losing it in the middle of the hospital room, just because some dude got jacked up in Orwellian bs and now conflated freedom of choice with compulsions, rooted biologically, in the brain—a disease. They weren't the same. It wasn't that he thought Daniel shouldn't have a choice, generally speaking. He should. But, addiction wasn't about choice. That was the point of the shit, right? It became a need, and needs ≠ choices by virtue of definition. You couldn't choose to not need oxygen, even if you fucking wanted to.
You couldn't choose to not drink, even if you wanted to, past a certain point.
And even if Daniel had wanted to leave, he would have been fucked by his own fucking withdrawal.
So his choice? Wasn't one.
But Lin could understand why someone who'd been under some totalitarian bootheel might think it was. He sighed, hard, against his palm, ignoring the glance. His good mood deflated. He kicked his feet. His eyes on Daniel, he replied perfunctorily.] Yeah, you can pay it. But you can't leave. I'll tranquilize you before you can detach yourself from those machines. [It wasn't a joke, and Lin didn't smile. He just sighed again.] But, if you want to try, just for shits and giggles, for the people watching—[He pointed at the microphoneless camera.]—go ahead. It won't be my white ass mooning them.