[ For all that he wishes he could appear Totally Composed, Alphinaud still absentmindedly fidgets with the hand towel between his fingers. He pauses for a moment, thinking, then: ]

... I do not believe it has made it to you on accident. That is too—convenient, I would say, and I am of two minds:

That there are truth to these words, and this record is meant to dishearten us. Or that 'tis but a lie, spoken in hopes we lose the will to fight back. Either way... this whole cruel, terrible game is meant not to be won, but to instill despair within our hearts, and this is yet another way to do so.