Dumas had also considered the possibility that the Mari he knew was not the core personality.  Perhaps she’d even been constructed by the other Mari as a very elaborate cover identity.  But Dumas’s recent experiences with DEE had taught him a lot about the way that a consciousness could be created for one purpose, and then evolve into something far greater.  Even if this Mari wasn’t the original Mari, she was still a person with her own thoughts and dreams, and she deserved to be protected.<br/><br/>Dumas was about to attempt a jumbled explanation of his feelings on the matter, when White suddenly spoke up.  Interestingly, although Dumas appreciated the dj’s declaration of devotion, he wasn’t entirely surprised by it.  He’d always considered White to be a fop, arrogant about all the wrong things.  But he’d never thought that White lacked compassion.  After all, a man without compassion would have murdered Chester a long time ago.<br/><br/>Gently, Dumas stroked the top of Mari’s head.  He understood what she meant when she said that her life centered around the club.  Everyone in the room probably felt that, to one degree or another.  They were a family -- a highly dysfunctional family, granted, but a family nevertheless.  “You don’t have to apologize,” Dumas reassured.  “We know you’d do the same thing for any of us.  Every night at work, you spend your time trying to help other people.  Now it’s your turn to let someone help you.”<br/><br/>Always more comfortable with physical actions than emotions, Dumas began formulating a plan.  “I think that until we know more about this, it would be better if you weren’t left alone.”