Sam considered what he said, swinging her long legs idly. "That doesn't make any sense. Separating the blocks practically guarantees the creation of cliques. Block A had that happy go-lucky barbeque thing while we did nothing. That's a set up if you ask me. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, none of us on this Block seemed to really give a damn."
She picked up a random tool sitting nearby, turning it over carefully in her hands. "Nah, that clique theory doesn't hold water. Sorry. It's got to be some other type of mind fuck. This whole place seems like it's primed for mind fucking."
At his mention of what he did in his free time when locked in his room, she arched a brow. Her blues returned to examine him carefully. "Toothpaste aliens? You spend time on the psych ward or something?"