His shoulder blades tense, inching up toward that loosely attached skull of his. He doesn't want to answer the question the way she's posed it, because he doesn't want to affirm that anything the Village imposed matters here. Four months later and it still feels like an act of rebellion to address unfamiliar townspeople by their names, not the number on their badge. A fulfillment of the promise he made to himself that he wouldn't have to do that again. However, if he refuses to say it at all, he's breaking the promise he made just now, and the only other person on this island besides Father Mulcahy himself who knows what it was like to spend years in the Village won't believe his presence is legitimate.

"You were assigned the number 44." She can't make him go along with that present tense.

He turns his head, enough that the rosy light in one eyesocket can make eye contact with her. "If you address me as Number 119 I certainly will do something to get myself thrown out of here."