River listened to the voice that came from York but wasn't at all York, and the face that didn't match its harsh words. But Delta was speaking, and at least Delta was still Delta.
"He is the Alpha," River echoed, distant and wide-eyed. She wasn't alright, far less alright than she'd been before. River saw them as fragments of people, incomplete ghosts that held on tightly to shards of borrowed (or in some cases, stolen) lives. "And he shouldn't be imprinting upon his lessers."
She'd curled her fingers around a bent bar, well worn rust scratching itself beneath her fingernails. Slipping easily inside, she retrieved the keyring and unlocked the door of the prisoner. It seemed to be the last thing he wanted, as "bars" equated to "safe." Though after seeing what Tex had done, he wasn't even so sure about that anymore. River shoved him out of the cell and out of the room with a quick warning glare that said 'You know what'll happen if you get here again.' Door shut tightly, she took a deep breath and turned around.
In an oddly clear, eerily lucid tone, she remarked, "This is pointless."