"Oh, make something up."
Another glance at the watch. Time was running out, and the foreman was too nervous to think. Sir Reginald, meanwhile, was trying to clap with one hand again.
"I don't know what to tell him."
"Tell him anything,” said Sir Reginald, losing his patience. “Tell him the portal…er, the doorway…
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And he may be a bastard, but randomly assigning people to hell isn't his bag.
I mean, sure, if they DESERVE it...
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*The multiverse is infinite in variety and population. Therefore, everything the inhabitants of your benighted little globe have ever imagined is out there somehow**, as is everything you haven't.
**Since cosmoi are defined by their laws of nature, "somehow" means the same in intercosmic navigation as "somewhere" does in mundane locomotion.
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You gotta give 'em props for that.
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