[ He pulls on a pair of trousers, casting Kenzi a look of some alarm when she says that, even if the reference goes over his head entirely. It's, at least, a sentiment he can relate to so fully and painfully. ]

It's the memories in your head, isn't it? Two lives that can't coexist...

[ Shrugging a shirt on, he doesn't bother tucking it in or even buttoning it all the way before he grabs a scarf and quickly drapes it around his neck to cover the scar. This'll do for now. Jefferson moves back to Kenzi, getting on his knees before the bed so that he can take her hands and look her in the eyes, his own wide and sincere. ]

You think you know which memories are real, but they're the ones that sound completely mad. [ He keeps his voice gentle, if emphatic, because this is important, to have a kindred spirit. To offer understanding and be understood in return. ] I know what it's like. Even-- before this place.