Jackson blinks, clearly still working to clear the sleep away as Jesse and I peer at him from either side. “McClintock isn’t a real name,” he murmurs, looking between us. “We don’t…have last names in the Community – they just assigned McClintock to me when they gave me my identity paperwork, which was surely forged. The name doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Wait, so,” Jesse says, a devious smile curling his lips. “You’re like…just Jackson? Like a pop star?”
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