[As the week has worn on, Terezi has, like every other non-erased character, forgotten almost everything about those who chose to erase themselves. This has changed her entirely
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[there's a moment's pause on the other end of the line before he answers.]
There isn't a way to keep it from browning like one might do with the flesh of an apple, but chilling it in a small ice box could slow down the process.
Yes, I believe you've mentioned something along those lines before. [he has a fuzzy recollection of it, at least, that first time they spoke on the stairs.]
You've always seemed more partial to chalk, ink and slobber as your art supplies, have you not?
I never thought I'd say something like this, but your previous artistic inclinations were less messy than your current ones. [and surprisingly, he doesn't sound too worried by the difference despite his initial uncertainty.] Such a waste, as well. Save some for those of us who don't wish to starve, would you?
There isn't a way to keep it from browning like one might do with the flesh of an apple, but chilling it in a small ice box could slow down the process.
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Edible art never lasts very long, but what need have you for art of that nature?
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Because I am an artist, of course.
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You've always seemed more partial to chalk, ink and slobber as your art supplies, have you not?
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I never thought I'd say something like this, but your previous artistic inclinations were less messy than your current ones. [and surprisingly, he doesn't sound too worried by the difference despite his initial uncertainty.] Such a waste, as well. Save some for those of us who don't wish to starve, would you?
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Just try to keep your newfound love of avant garde art and all the leftovers therein off of the streets.
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