A young man entered the Sorting Room. He was handsome of countenance, and his expression was serene. His eyes were as guileless as a child's, and yet seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages
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(Well, you did mention him . . . though I'm not sure if he would be wrong so much as dangerous, at least the second Corinthian. But then I'm not a big Heinlein fan, so . . .)
"You seem like an interesting young man." The Corinthian smiles. "I like your mode of speech, it's so very formal compared to Earth."
((That's fine. I've never read Sandman, either, so you clearly know more about this than I do.))
Mike shrugged and smiled a bit ruefully. "I am still learning to speak English brightly, brightly and with beauty," he answered. "I must be careful not to speak wrongly."
Mike thought about that and then shook his head. "Perhaps it is better to say that Martians get annoyed at different things from those which upset humans."
"I have only been away from Mars a few months," Mike answered. "I think of myself as Martian, first and foremost. I know some of my water brothers think that is a wrongness, but it is what I grok about myself."
"You seem like an interesting young man." The Corinthian smiles. "I like your mode of speech, it's so very formal compared to Earth."
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Mike shrugged and smiled a bit ruefully. "I am still learning to speak English brightly, brightly and with beauty," he answered. "I must be careful not to speak wrongly."
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(Both are nightmares, but people need dreams and nightmares can be therapy.)
"Lots of native speakers can't even do that." He chuckles. "Fuckin' idiots, but that's their problem."
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"Can be annoying as Hell, though."
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"But then, my world is the Dreaming. So who am I to talk?"
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