As Tributes went, Linden had been decently memorable, and his series of backsliding and trainwrecks over the years had made him even harder to forget. Perhaps this makes Jason's relative unawareness its own brand of dubiously impressive; Linden can relate to forgetting Tributes, but staff, who one sees again year after year? He makes an effort to at least keep those straight, even outside of his own District. He gets the impression that Jason only sees him in terms of numbers and loss, and truly, it is difficult to approach a being with reason and compassion with that kind of starting point.

Linden doesn't make a move to either physically impede Jason or help the Avox; he merely stands, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she picks herself up and starts to stagger painfully away. He knows that other Avoxes will help her get patched up, that it's not his place to play doctor (though some Tributes would perhaps react in such a way.)

No, it seems like his place is right here.

"Clearly, you don't see," he retorts dryly. "But others do, and what's more, they feel your shame secondhand. I suppose it's fortunate, that staff exist to shoulder the burdens of those who struggle to manage them alone..."

He kneels to pick up a fragment of the dropped mug, running a fingertip along an edge as if to compare its sharpness with that of his chastising words.

"Rehab exists for that reason, as well. I've learned so many useful things, like... how to control destructive urges? Maybe you should look into it. Become a better man for your own sake, if not for the furniture's."