"It's not your fault. He had everything. My memories ... " His face. His mannerisms. Everything had been right there, waiting for him in the corners of his mind and in muscle memory. Samuel was nothing if not a good actor and he had all but given him the finishing touches to make the act flawless. If he'd been stronger, he could have fought him off, but mind control -- and apparently now possession -- had never been one of his strong suits. Still, though, that was no excuse. It was still his fault.