"Well, basically. I mean, you're right. I wasn't brought here like the rest of you. Sorry, I don't know one-hundred percent what rumors you've heard and which you haven't about me..."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"That's not the important part though, Judith. Wait a minute. I think you should have these things, too." Michael opened up the drawer and pulled out a small, bullet proof vest and a gun made entirely of plastic.
He cleared his throat.
"Now, I've tried to temper everyone's expectations. The closer we get to the end of the week, the more confident I am that I can send everyone home as they should be. But, now I know you like it here and you're probably rooting for me to fail-- who can blame you! The problem is..."
He sighed.
"...Management. Judith, you don't have powers. You don't have much of a personality that you like to show. Management, well, this place is for their favorites. People disappear when Management tires of them and I'm afraid to say it, you're next on the chopping block. You're going to need to mix things up a bit. Take a page from your mom and sleep around! Or... roll around in radioactive waste and get super powers. Oh! Or just make friends with Stevie and die outside the hotel so she can bring you back to life as a weird pink construct thing. Not even she knows she can do that! And then she can teleport in and out of your head. Now that's the kind of thing management can get behind."