As friendly as Leela had been, Rita was glad to be escorted away from her, for fear that some of that crazy might have been contagious. Abducted by aliens. Yeah, right
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It was hard to focus on her words alone, each little shift and movement catching his attention and making it hard for him to focus. Luke caught the awkwardness with everything, and he realized that her way of speaking was unusual enough. He wouldn't be surprised if there was someone out of time, or if this place was somehow pulling things together in a different way altogether. What he did know was that this girl was confused, and her way of carrying herself meant that she probably needed a helping hand.
Luke poked at his own sandwiches while he considered her words, but abandoned them for his juice box. Deftly, he poked a straw in it, and glanced away. "The tone of the room is pretty dark," he replied, leaving that out there. "I'm trying not to let it get to me, but everyone's pretty ... unhappy." He brought the box toward his face and took a quick sip from the straw, and he set it down a moment later. Careless actions, but some part of him was fully aware of everything he did. It was possibly because he felt like he was being watched, whereas before, everything about his life became second nature.
Even when he tried to run away. Or because he wanted to and failed.
After all, the very gnawing inside of him had vanished. There was no faint glimmer of feeling because he had Kronos inside of him. There was no sign that he might be still conscious, aware of his existence; he was aware, he was in control. That was all he needed.
He tried to breathe casually, and once more grabbed a sandwich. "So what I'm saying is ... how's your day going? Bad news?" Luke leaned toward her a little, a smirk on his lips. "Because I'll let you in on a secret: you're not crazy."
How queer, and yet fortuitous, that this young man had managed to address a handful of Natalia's concerns with a few words. In part, it was his very attitude, his mannerisms: deliberate, and yet simultaneously at ease. Even wearing the same gray shirt, with the same imprinted smile. The swiftness of his variable movements ought not to have yielded such an impression; combined with the steadiness of his voice, she received it nonetheless.
She could see that he had not quite finished at unhappy, and waited for the conclusion. It helped, of course, that he demonstrated the secret behind the beverage boxes, fixing her attention (not nearly as casual as she might have liked) to his hands. The straw punctured the box, of course! There seemed to be a particular spot for it; her eyes followed the straw to his mouth, then in brief to her own puzzles.
It was with a wondering look that she considered his question, right until his lean and smile. Tension, not much but enough, escaped from her shoulders. Kiba had given her comfort with the problem, but it did help to hear it from yet another.
"Are you quite certain? Of course, I do not think myself mad, but I do fear that you may change your mind in short order." Natalia paused, moved conversationally back, and completely failed to notice any thread of irony or jest. "It has been a most... trying time. I suspect that I am not alone in this, which certainly should account for the room's mood."
Her hands moved to experiment with a box. There was a strange, transparent material around the straw; without unwrapping it, she aimed for a small metallic circle on the box's top.
"Are these common in your--oh! I am Natalia. ...Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear." A beat, and dwindling expectation in her look. "Though they would have me believe otherwise." Recalling her bargain with Kiba: "I shall not believe that you are mad either, wherever it is that you are from, mister...?"
"Castellan." As easy as it might be to go by another identity in this place, he saw no use for it, no sign that the Titans were actually behind this, playing a game with him for destroying their chances at bringing forth another Golden Age. Luke's voice was purposefully steadied when he related it, ensuring that she would catch all the syllables of the name. In his mind, an image floated forth and distracted him: the two versions of the spelling of name, one with the accepted alphabet that often looked mangled in his mind, and the other in Greek, with the letters jumbling up and placing themselves in an appropriate order. He had seen this on the front of his house since he was a little boy, and he had always understood that perfectly connecting the dots between the two made him different.
This girl wouldn't understand him pausing to deal with that mindset. He doubted anyone here would take well to someone with an actual disorder. From the way she behaved-the cautious movement of her hands as she carefully prodded the straw through the plastic hole, to her emotions sketched so visibly over her features-he doubted she would judge him. Luke didn't take her for the type, but it wouldn't do well to argue anything that might make his word less than viable. Not in a place like this, not with what they were specifically dealing with.
"Luke Castellan, to be specific. It's a pleasure." Luke's fingers pressed into the bread of the sandwich, and he pulled it toward his mouth for a bite-a quick one, nothing more, the bit swallowed down and forgotten. Nothing remarkable, and he doubted the Goddess of the Hearth would care if he gave her an offering of this. He also wondered if there would even be a way in such a place as a mental institution that may or may not be fabricated. "And you are not alone, Natalia. Just listen to the announcements and have a look around. These institutions are hardly just housing such a small handful of individuals. But that's just the experience in my world-well, Connecticut, or just off Long Island these days, to be specific." She did express curiosity for where he came from, after all, and it was just as related to the thought of offering food as he could manage. His locations were hardly accurate, but they were the last places he could call home. The havens he kept with Thalia and Annabeth didn't fit the bill.
Castellan: less exotic than Inuzuka, and so not that bad. Natalia could well picture a Castellan in Auldrant. That he had paused upon speaking it went by unnoticed, for content with her ability to pronounce it, Natalia had taken the time to find success with her straw. The transparent material bunched up, having been torn by the entry of straw into box. Picking it off, she allowed it to fall to her tray as she lifted the drink to her mouth.
Fruit juice, indeed. Yet a paler, sweeter taste than to which she was accustomed; almost too sweet. Had she not been setting the box back down, she might have risked dropping it at hearing his given name: Luke. Because of the meaning, the name had been quite rare in Auldrant. There could be no question of confusing this Luke; especially once he identified a homeland of Connecticut, near to an island of great length, but it still gave her a wide-eyed pause. Not for long; she shook herself with reprimand. Had she not overcome this? How little it said of her determination, of her present maturity, for her to immediately make such comparisons when thrust into a trying condition. That Kiba's attitude had reminded her of Luke, that this young man bore the same name; it was irrelevant. Did she intend to trouble th-him so, even after--No, she did not.
"Yes," she said, after that beat, "though I insist that the pleasure is mine. ... We do seem a rather small group for an institution of this size, though I have not had great experience with these sorts of... places. Was the announcement so strange? I believe they are having difficulty with the rainfall, as well as the scheduling...? They are putting considerable effort into their game."
Natalia furrowed her brow, attempting to decipher what she could have missed. The voice had been male, and not pleasant. Otherwise resolved, she allowed herself to appreciate her hunger, and brought the remnants of her first sandwich to her mouth. After swallowing her next bite, she directed a curious look Luke's way.
"May I ask your opinion, L...Luke? Do you suppose that the food may be drugged? We seem to have no choice regardless, however..."
The stutter over his name caught his attention. There were a number of things that he realized were unusual given the nature of their conversation and how it progressed, but that was the one that caught his eye. He wondered if she had some attachment to the name, the very same way that he would hesitate were he to meet any other girl by the name of Annabeth. But his hesitance wouldn't be written all over him unless he wanted it to. He was a better actor. Perhaps it was incorrect to judge Natalia's acting, but she seemed to be an open book.
Luke paid no visible mind to her stutter, though. His body shifted, chest rising and falling easily, while he considered her question. "No, I don't believe so," he answered, and it was as if he had genuinely given this thought. Because he had. The food in the morning had to be considered the same way, but though it was nothing like the food he'd had back at Camp Half-Blood, it wasn't something he minded. His head craned toward a nurse in the distance, to see how much attention she was paying. Whether he was doing this for Natalia's benefit or his own, he couldn't say for sure. "But it's always rude to not accept the meal from someone who is hosting you. Bad luck, you see." He placed in an important pause, where he could draw juice in from his straw and purse his lips soon after to show how he liked the taste. "I made it through breakfast, though. No hallucinations yet."
Though if they were poisoned, hallucinations would be the least of their problems. With her question, Luke doubted she hadn't considered that. Either way, the superstitious part of him clung to tradition, even if their host was hardly treating them as guests.
He realized he didn't regard the part about the others there, but he would soon.
That Natalia had thus far acted with such transparency had not escaped her attention. Her lack had prompted admiration of Luke and Kiba's ability to be so casual, to seem so unaffected. She knew, knew, that she ought to have been putting out a better exterior. Knowing did not equate to immediate expression, unfortunately. But the longer she talked with others, the steadier she felt.
Natalia nodded, agreeing with his explanation. It was difficult, not merely because of the threat of mind-addling substances. She remembered it quite clearly: Alpine, the tray with the goblets, Now have the grace to die by your own hand. But this Luke spoke well, and as she had already reasoned, it would make little sense to poison them after setting up this circus.
"You are quite reassuring," she noted, with a small, embarrassed smile. "I must apologize if I am... behaving as a burden. It is not at all as it should be."
She sipped again from her juice box; nothing like a goblet. That there was a time when even she would hesitate to take what was offered by the host, by your own hand, Natalia refrained from addressing. In part due to her piqued interest in superstition. "Is it bad luck? Poor manners, certainly, but I have not heard of any ill falling to those who act badly. Do--"
She did try to keep from sounding so intrigued. "Do awful things happen?"
On one hand, it was almost surprising-that superstition wasn't something that was unheard of, but perhaps it was because of some of the company he kept. The demi-gods were, by nature, a fairly superstitious bunch, forced to keep their connections to the gods in check, while remembering their ties to one another. Every aspect of Luke's life had been riddled in superstition; every choice he made eventually came up and revealed itself to him. To speak lightly upon not eating the food was one thing, but he truly believed it could cause problems. If anything, they might find it suspicious that they refused the food.
"Sometimes, yeah," he relayed. "Sometimes you get bad luck. Other times, well, it depends. You could be killed if you turned your back on the wrong host." It was possible that this girl would find too much weight in his words, but he didn't care. Just like with the previous blonde, he could overlook these follies within himself. In the end, they could write it off as nothing if they so chose.
Luke gave an awkward laugh and leaned back. "Not so reassuring, what I just said, huh? Well, it's what I believe. Plus, they might pick up on your lack of appetite." He smiled, but it was thin, strained. "Wouldn't want them pecking at your side, would you?" Like little birds, or that was how he pictured them.
He thought to reassure her, but didn't bother. No need to completely form a bond between them just yet.
The idea that acting poorly, while a guest, could lead to death was not a very strange concept to Natalia. Bad luck resulting from it, yes, but a plethora of tales existed in which wars had begun over something as small as the employment of the incorrect utensil. Inevitably, much of these had been spun far out of proportion, and dealt with times long past, when conflict even within kingdoms and empires had been more common than could ever be excused.
Because it seemed so feasible to her (already so inclined to take him at his word, whatever it might be), she needed little reassurance, though further explanation would be welcomed. Natalia identified, but did not understand why his laugh sounded strange, and his smile appeared forced. Her growing curiosity made the topic less grim than, perhaps, it ought to have been; especially given that he did believe it.
And indeed: Natalia at present envisioned birds.
"Would they? My, but who are they? The, ah, "luck"? Or perhaps the hosts..." Her food went forgotten as her fist curled in contemplation at her chin. "As a punishment for refusing given food, one would be pecked at? Through, do you mean, to the stomach? As if to say... if you shall not make use of it, then you shan't have it!"
She paused, dropped her hand to her tray, and thought again. Natalia had never heard of such a thing resulting from poor manners, and that picture did seem to go quite beyond a dash of bad luck. But, perhaps, "they" were even stricter about etiquette in Connecticut. Perhaps Luke (her Luke) could do with a visit--and an immediate bout of regret, to think of him with such flippancy.
Was this girl seriously considering the nurses as birds? He distracted himself with the thought, and he looked around the room. Most of the nurses weren't that impressive looking. Their eyes were a little glassy, though, and one of them had a huge honker of a nose-glassy and a huge nose, that's almost like a bird. Luke seemed lost in his own thoughts, but he realized he needed to not forget his conversation partner.
And what a partner she turned out to be! Unusual and unsteady, but he couldn't find any reason to dislike her. She was charming, in her own way, and the part of him that seemed to enjoy getting others to follow him liked how she hung on his every word. Luke almost hoped he could find her again, and hope to see how much of a partnership they could have. He was the understanding person, right? Perhaps it was wrong to see her in that light, but he couldn't stray from it.
Well, all the same, he allowed himself to laugh by time he fully focused on her again. "I ended up distracted by figuring out if they might just be birds," he said. "The one with the black hair and the huge nose-she might just fit the bill." Luke carefully quirked a thumb toward her. "But no, I don't think we'll have to deal with any birds." Hopefully, hopefully then she would understand that this was just a joke.
That she had entirely missed the mark on his reference to the nurses, Natalia failed to realize until the very last. Though, certainly, the nurses were considered as part of the aggregate "host" entity. His distraction gave her plenty of time to further contemplate how bizarre the traditions in his world must be. Could, in fact, a mouth peck as a beak? Would utensils need to be involved?
She had asked him for clarification, but his attention had strayed and she would not yet insist. There was still food to see to, however unlikely it was that Natalia would be able to clear her plate. Polishing off the first sandwich, she lifted the fork, made again of that unfamiliar material, and tried the salad. The greens were not as fresh as she was accustomed to, even after the transit from Malkuth to Kimlasca, but nor did they wilt.
Now, she understood that by "they", he meant the nurses. Following the angle of his thumb to the woman in question, Natalia took in her nose, eyes, and hair; and suddenly, giggled. "Indeed, she does have an avian look to her. However, as you say... they are clearly not birds, and more like to force feed than injure."
Natalia shook her head, but put the matter of etiquette luck to rest for the moment. There was something rather more important to which to return. Forking up some more salad; chew and swallow. "What struck you so strange about the announcements?"
"Nothing much," he replied. "Just that we're not alone in this mess. Gotta wonder why they brought us all here the day everyone's out. Maybe they want to throw us off-kilter a little." Or maybe give them the wrong idea about this place. If they ended up here with one another, the inevitable reaction would be that they would have no method of getting to know the truth or why they ended up there. Their allies would be one another: the few familiar faces that ended up trapped.
"But maybe I'm wrong," he added, as an afterthought, because Luke wasn't someone who lived without being knee-deep in feelings of doubt. His entire existence was based on feelings of doubt. These thoughts kept him from happiness for some time, and now, he was living a different existence, caught in a mental asylum rather than trying for reincarnation.
"At this point," Natalia noted, once finishing another bite of salad, "all that we are able to do is speculate. It could be little more than that on this day there was a scheduled outing, yet today we arrived. It's easier to handle smaller groups."
She paused, sipping from her box of juice in contemplation. "Not that," with a critical dryness in her voice and a beginning frown, "they have worked all that hard to familiarize us. Though, they act as if what we don't know, we should know."
Luke poked at his own sandwiches while he considered her words, but abandoned them for his juice box. Deftly, he poked a straw in it, and glanced away. "The tone of the room is pretty dark," he replied, leaving that out there. "I'm trying not to let it get to me, but everyone's pretty ... unhappy." He brought the box toward his face and took a quick sip from the straw, and he set it down a moment later. Careless actions, but some part of him was fully aware of everything he did. It was possibly because he felt like he was being watched, whereas before, everything about his life became second nature.
Even when he tried to run away. Or because he wanted to and failed.
After all, the very gnawing inside of him had vanished. There was no faint glimmer of feeling because he had Kronos inside of him. There was no sign that he might be still conscious, aware of his existence; he was aware, he was in control. That was all he needed.
He tried to breathe casually, and once more grabbed a sandwich. "So what I'm saying is ... how's your day going? Bad news?" Luke leaned toward her a little, a smirk on his lips. "Because I'll let you in on a secret: you're not crazy."
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She could see that he had not quite finished at unhappy, and waited for the conclusion. It helped, of course, that he demonstrated the secret behind the beverage boxes, fixing her attention (not nearly as casual as she might have liked) to his hands. The straw punctured the box, of course! There seemed to be a particular spot for it; her eyes followed the straw to his mouth, then in brief to her own puzzles.
It was with a wondering look that she considered his question, right until his lean and smile. Tension, not much but enough, escaped from her shoulders. Kiba had given her comfort with the problem, but it did help to hear it from yet another.
"Are you quite certain? Of course, I do not think myself mad, but I do fear that you may change your mind in short order." Natalia paused, moved conversationally back, and completely failed to notice any thread of irony or jest. "It has been a most... trying time. I suspect that I am not alone in this, which certainly should account for the room's mood."
Her hands moved to experiment with a box. There was a strange, transparent material around the straw; without unwrapping it, she aimed for a small metallic circle on the box's top.
"Are these common in your--oh! I am Natalia. ...Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear." A beat, and dwindling expectation in her look. "Though they would have me believe otherwise." Recalling her bargain with Kiba: "I shall not believe that you are mad either, wherever it is that you are from, mister...?"
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This girl wouldn't understand him pausing to deal with that mindset. He doubted anyone here would take well to someone with an actual disorder. From the way she behaved-the cautious movement of her hands as she carefully prodded the straw through the plastic hole, to her emotions sketched so visibly over her features-he doubted she would judge him. Luke didn't take her for the type, but it wouldn't do well to argue anything that might make his word less than viable. Not in a place like this, not with what they were specifically dealing with.
"Luke Castellan, to be specific. It's a pleasure." Luke's fingers pressed into the bread of the sandwich, and he pulled it toward his mouth for a bite-a quick one, nothing more, the bit swallowed down and forgotten. Nothing remarkable, and he doubted the Goddess of the Hearth would care if he gave her an offering of this. He also wondered if there would even be a way in such a place as a mental institution that may or may not be fabricated. "And you are not alone, Natalia. Just listen to the announcements and have a look around. These institutions are hardly just housing such a small handful of individuals. But that's just the experience in my world-well, Connecticut, or just off Long Island these days, to be specific." She did express curiosity for where he came from, after all, and it was just as related to the thought of offering food as he could manage. His locations were hardly accurate, but they were the last places he could call home. The havens he kept with Thalia and Annabeth didn't fit the bill.
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Fruit juice, indeed. Yet a paler, sweeter taste than to which she was accustomed; almost too sweet. Had she not been setting the box back down, she might have risked dropping it at hearing his given name: Luke. Because of the meaning, the name had been quite rare in Auldrant. There could be no question of confusing this Luke; especially once he identified a homeland of Connecticut, near to an island of great length, but it still gave her a wide-eyed pause. Not for long; she shook herself with reprimand. Had she not overcome this? How little it said of her determination, of her present maturity, for her to immediately make such comparisons when thrust into a trying condition. That Kiba's attitude had reminded her of Luke, that this young man bore the same name; it was irrelevant. Did she intend to trouble th-him so, even after--No, she did not.
"Yes," she said, after that beat, "though I insist that the pleasure is mine. ... We do seem a rather small group for an institution of this size, though I have not had great experience with these sorts of... places. Was the announcement so strange? I believe they are having difficulty with the rainfall, as well as the scheduling...? They are putting considerable effort into their game."
Natalia furrowed her brow, attempting to decipher what she could have missed. The voice had been male, and not pleasant. Otherwise resolved, she allowed herself to appreciate her hunger, and brought the remnants of her first sandwich to her mouth. After swallowing her next bite, she directed a curious look Luke's way.
"May I ask your opinion, L...Luke? Do you suppose that the food may be drugged? We seem to have no choice regardless, however..."
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Luke paid no visible mind to her stutter, though. His body shifted, chest rising and falling easily, while he considered her question. "No, I don't believe so," he answered, and it was as if he had genuinely given this thought. Because he had. The food in the morning had to be considered the same way, but though it was nothing like the food he'd had back at Camp Half-Blood, it wasn't something he minded. His head craned toward a nurse in the distance, to see how much attention she was paying. Whether he was doing this for Natalia's benefit or his own, he couldn't say for sure. "But it's always rude to not accept the meal from someone who is hosting you. Bad luck, you see." He placed in an important pause, where he could draw juice in from his straw and purse his lips soon after to show how he liked the taste. "I made it through breakfast, though. No hallucinations yet."
Though if they were poisoned, hallucinations would be the least of their problems. With her question, Luke doubted she hadn't considered that. Either way, the superstitious part of him clung to tradition, even if their host was hardly treating them as guests.
He realized he didn't regard the part about the others there, but he would soon.
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Natalia nodded, agreeing with his explanation. It was difficult, not merely because of the threat of mind-addling substances. She remembered it quite clearly: Alpine, the tray with the goblets, Now have the grace to die by your own hand. But this Luke spoke well, and as she had already reasoned, it would make little sense to poison them after setting up this circus.
"You are quite reassuring," she noted, with a small, embarrassed smile. "I must apologize if I am... behaving as a burden. It is not at all as it should be."
She sipped again from her juice box; nothing like a goblet. That there was a time when even she would hesitate to take what was offered by the host, by your own hand, Natalia refrained from addressing. In part due to her piqued interest in superstition. "Is it bad luck? Poor manners, certainly, but I have not heard of any ill falling to those who act badly. Do--"
She did try to keep from sounding so intrigued. "Do awful things happen?"
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"Sometimes, yeah," he relayed. "Sometimes you get bad luck. Other times, well, it depends. You could be killed if you turned your back on the wrong host." It was possible that this girl would find too much weight in his words, but he didn't care. Just like with the previous blonde, he could overlook these follies within himself. In the end, they could write it off as nothing if they so chose.
Luke gave an awkward laugh and leaned back. "Not so reassuring, what I just said, huh? Well, it's what I believe. Plus, they might pick up on your lack of appetite." He smiled, but it was thin, strained. "Wouldn't want them pecking at your side, would you?" Like little birds, or that was how he pictured them.
He thought to reassure her, but didn't bother. No need to completely form a bond between them just yet.
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Because it seemed so feasible to her (already so inclined to take him at his word, whatever it might be), she needed little reassurance, though further explanation would be welcomed. Natalia identified, but did not understand why his laugh sounded strange, and his smile appeared forced. Her growing curiosity made the topic less grim than, perhaps, it ought to have been; especially given that he did believe it.
And indeed: Natalia at present envisioned birds.
"Would they? My, but who are they? The, ah, "luck"? Or perhaps the hosts..." Her food went forgotten as her fist curled in contemplation at her chin. "As a punishment for refusing given food, one would be pecked at? Through, do you mean, to the stomach? As if to say... if you shall not make use of it, then you shan't have it!"
She paused, dropped her hand to her tray, and thought again. Natalia had never heard of such a thing resulting from poor manners, and that picture did seem to go quite beyond a dash of bad luck. But, perhaps, "they" were even stricter about etiquette in Connecticut. Perhaps Luke (her Luke) could do with a visit--and an immediate bout of regret, to think of him with such flippancy.
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And what a partner she turned out to be! Unusual and unsteady, but he couldn't find any reason to dislike her. She was charming, in her own way, and the part of him that seemed to enjoy getting others to follow him liked how she hung on his every word. Luke almost hoped he could find her again, and hope to see how much of a partnership they could have. He was the understanding person, right? Perhaps it was wrong to see her in that light, but he couldn't stray from it.
Well, all the same, he allowed himself to laugh by time he fully focused on her again. "I ended up distracted by figuring out if they might just be birds," he said. "The one with the black hair and the huge nose-she might just fit the bill." Luke carefully quirked a thumb toward her. "But no, I don't think we'll have to deal with any birds." Hopefully, hopefully then she would understand that this was just a joke.
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She had asked him for clarification, but his attention had strayed and she would not yet insist. There was still food to see to, however unlikely it was that Natalia would be able to clear her plate. Polishing off the first sandwich, she lifted the fork, made again of that unfamiliar material, and tried the salad. The greens were not as fresh as she was accustomed to, even after the transit from Malkuth to Kimlasca, but nor did they wilt.
Now, she understood that by "they", he meant the nurses. Following the angle of his thumb to the woman in question, Natalia took in her nose, eyes, and hair; and suddenly, giggled. "Indeed, she does have an avian look to her. However, as you say... they are clearly not birds, and more like to force feed than injure."
Natalia shook her head, but put the matter of etiquette luck to rest for the moment. There was something rather more important to which to return. Forking up some more salad; chew and swallow. "What struck you so strange about the announcements?"
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"But maybe I'm wrong," he added, as an afterthought, because Luke wasn't someone who lived without being knee-deep in feelings of doubt. His entire existence was based on feelings of doubt. These thoughts kept him from happiness for some time, and now, he was living a different existence, caught in a mental asylum rather than trying for reincarnation.
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She paused, sipping from her box of juice in contemplation. "Not that," with a critical dryness in her voice and a beginning frown, "they have worked all that hard to familiarize us. Though, they act as if what we don't know, we should know."
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