[There appears to be a tall man in a black cloak lying face-down in the middle of the road, limbs at odd and uncomfortable angles. A small, narrow piece of wood is lying on the ground near the communicator. For a moment, the man does not move. Eventually, he stirs slowly, raising his head. His face is deeply lacerated and bruised; he rubs his eyes
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Quite all right, then?
[ pause. ]
If it's any consolation, you're hardly the first person confused upon arrival. [ :) ]
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Are you familiar with this place, then?
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Insofar as my stay here has allowed me to be, yes.
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Oh, I was murdered.
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By whom?
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[ drawled, lazily. ]
I was cursed in the back.
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Your name?
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[ oh snap. ]
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[Well. That's a name he knows. Pausing for a minute to take this in, then, in a slightly questioning tone:]
How long have you been here?
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'Lucky'? Oh? And how's that?
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Oh, it's just.
It was rather boring, before.
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