[When the call begins, the feed is upside down - the man holding it is staring down at it, dark brows quirked in curiousity. Turning it around, he brings the camera right up to his face - close in on his jet-black eye - then pulls it away again, at arm's length. He blinks a couple of times, canting his head somewhat childishly...before grinning
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You're from Eire... aren't you.
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...I'm not. Daddy is.
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What are you talking about?
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Daddy is Irish. I'm not from there.
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A little old to be referring someone to "daddy", don't you think? Wretched human.
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...Why? And that isn't very nice, calling Daddy wretched. Even if he is.
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I was referring to you.
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Mm...well, wretched as I may be, telling me that isn't going to change me any.
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I may be missing one eye, but I can assure you, the remaining one isn't that hideous to look at.
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[If he gets the hint, he definitely doesn't care.] I'll go on and take your word for that.
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I don't like humans. They don't have very good endurance.
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Maybe not the AVERAGE human. Now me...I've got more...energy.
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[Either he missed the meaning of what you just said, or he is ignoring it entirely.]
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And not in the good way. I don't touch humans, I don't like them.
[If you don't get this, she's going to be pulling her hair in frustration. But she's deathly serious.]
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[Oh, he got it, all right...but now he's serious, too.]
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