A cold sweat broke out as those words were uttered. His eyes widened. Rafe had grabbed his journal and now he couldn't get it back.
His name... it was on the tip of his tongue. He'd known it at the beginning of their encounter. That piece of paper had it on it. He'd scanned it so many times today. Why couldn't he remember!? He looked to the left and to the right. He thought very deeply on any time throughout the day where someone said his name.
He could remember nothing.
He couldn't lie.
He couldn't do anything but admit that he didn't even know his own name...
"...No... I didn't cut your soul... let's just say... it was your psyche that I cut. As for my name..." he sighed heavily, "...I will no--"
The words were swallowed. What came next was not his own: