[ Through a window, (how he'd managed to knock the locusts aside, don't ask) the device records a dark, almost black sky. His voice comes from beyond the image. ]
It's nine in the morning, by the by. And darkness is usually the ninth day. I had thought all this talk of slaughtering the conveniently placed lambs to be a touch rushed, but it does
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I am surprised that
You are "playing", so to speak?
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Too many what if's for me, not enough tangible things to fight.
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I'm not saying that I won't do it myself if I have to, but there's no point in going all psychotic if there's... something left over.
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Would you like to make a wager? It could all be an April Fools' joke.
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