[The boy in the bed comes awake with a start, crying out and thrashing as if something's grabbing at him, pulling him down, ripping him apart. His eyes shoot open, and his hands are still clutching at things in the dark, thrashing to brush his skin off, shuddering as if spiders are scrambling over his flesh, under his clothes
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... I'm sorry.
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Oh...well I'm Daxter.
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W-Well... I-I guess you already know.
[And yes, he looks pretty miserable.]
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Don't sweat it Blondie, I've still got the memories. I can wow ya with outlandish stories of the memory ya lost.
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... was I cool?
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Dax... ter? How well would you say you know me?
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