[Clap. Rush of blue light.]
... no. This isn't...
[The distant roar of rain, thunder. Finally, Al pulls the PCD from his soaked pocket. Though his voice is very calm, there is something in his eyes that is... worried. Desperately worried. The rain runs down his face, even underneath the soaked hood of his coat.]I can transmute the water away from
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[His voice is soft, delicate.]
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[The sound of a door opening, rain pounding all around him.]
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Yuca, take a jacket? I don't want you getting sick.
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[He starts running.]
Forget it. I'll fix it.
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[He sighs.]
But I'll do something.
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Yuca-!
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