[Over the journal you might hear various kitchen-y sounds. Oil splattering, stir-frying, the unmistakable clang of cast-iron. Genis is, as usual, in the kitchen.]
Breakfast'll be ready in a bit, Sis! I'm just gonna-
[His voice weakens, as if he's walking away from the journal.]
Oh hey, it's you from the other day. What do you w--
- Hey
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