[The feed clicks on as the PCD is half-placed, half-dropped down on Aizen's low writing desk, showing a view of a house in a state of mild disarray but notable abandonment: dust on the desk and on the pages arranged on it, wilted flowers in a pot in the corner, even the footprints of some animals on the dusty floor. Aizen is walking around the room
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This dreadful city...
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What happened? Lost track of time?
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Please excuse me, I can't seem to recall your name, miss - have you been here long?
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Uchiha Madara-san.
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[Look at him sigh, poor thing.]
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That would depend on who you ask.
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Aizen-sama?
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[Have the patented terrifying Aizen-style change of expression: like the slipping of a curtain, humble confusion gone, aloof amusement clear in its place.]
You sound very surprised, Szayel.
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Forgive me, Aizen-sama. I have not had the pleasure of witnessing your performance to the denizens of this place.
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Tell me, what current projects do you have on your table?
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