[ There's a chair laying on its side Michonne grabs it, setting it upright and making sure it's sturdy. Back to the wall she sinks down, suddenly exhausted, unsure when she last stopped before all of this. Wincing, she stands up again halfway and pulls the walkie-talkie out of her back pocket, just holding it between her hands as sits more comfortably this time. ]

Displaced in time. You sound like...[ like Eugene, but she stops herself, catching the beginning of a smile, shaking her head, and continuing. ] See, I could've believed in being kidnapped, drugged. Brought somewhere else. [ It's happened before, it could happen again. ] People do it for all kinds of reasons. But displaced in time? That one I can't—[ She holds a hand out in a defeated sort of gesture. ]—this is happening, whatever the fuck it is.

[ She knows it isn't whatever Virgil used to make her hallucinate, that felt different, less vivid even though it felt too real at the time. Since she doesn't know how to get out of this, she has to lean in, at least for now. ]

I'm Michonne.