So different. [ And Cisco laughs a little, because laughing is preferable to crying, and it is funny, in a weird, awful sort of way. He certainly seems completely unbothered by being labeled a 'paranoid fuck' - pretty apt, as far as he's concerned. The truth of that is clearer than ever, right now, with such a close comparison. ] Honestly, I didn't realize... how much time I waste on that shit, 'til I had a break from it.

[ Of course, there's another side to that, as well. He hadn't realized just how blithe and trusting he had been, before he started to suspect Eobard. It had been nice to have a respite, but Cisco's not sure he would choose to go back, permanently. That would just be setting himself up for someone else hurting him.

The hairbrush is an unexpected request, but Cisco gestures to his desk, near to the computer monitor, where a small wooden hairbrush is sitting next to some hello kitty post-its and a sketchbook sitting open, covered in little technical doodles and scattered bullet points with vague ideas for engineering projects. ]

What do you mean, strategy?