[Where ever he's sitting, it's in a brightly lit room. Obviously on the floor, with his knees pulled to his chest and his communicator off to the side. His expression even in profile is taut and weary, his voice quiet and flat.]

I think...I may have.

[He'd thought it strange when he found the page, but also quaint, which is what motivated him to write...]

What happens when you write on them?