To all the new arrivals, welcome to Hell. It's otherwise known as Camp Fuck You Die, but I've never been sure just where the comma should go in that phrase. It changes the meaning, depending on where it goes, however I suspect that it goes after 'you' from the sheer amount of times that people have come into the hospital critical injured or dead
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River's missing?
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No - yes - why does my sister want to play hide and seek?
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Because it's a fun and joy-inspiring game?
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It's camp. It will end with decapitations all around.
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No it- well. Probably. But it's okay to decapitate the walking dead. And I'm going to bet River's good at that.
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She's very, very good at it. It's almost poetry in motion, watching her do it.
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Very bloody poetry.
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Oh, there's no blood. Blood requires that the heart beat and their hearts suffer from extreme necrosis.
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Oh, oh of course. Has anyone told you you're disturbingly matter of fact?
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I've been here four months, Wash. It's also not the first time I've suffered culture shock.
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No, I guess you've had a generous helping of that already, haven't you?
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Less zombies, more Reavers, but it's essentially the same thing. You pick yourself up, keep moving and hope that you're not about to fall on your face.
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Which would just be life, everywhere. Yet necrotic-but-beating hearts and the Captain turning into a teenager still surprise me. Shock me, even.
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River and I turn into children with depressing regularity. The reason why I'm using a cane is because a horde of zombies were trying to sacrifice me to their deity and they started to eat it. You become desensitised to the whole experience after a while.
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To having your leg eaten?
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...okay, so I'm not entirely desensitised to that. It hurt!
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