[Marisa's in the middle of arranging her ill-gotten gains for maximum aesthetic value when the switch happens. Disoriented for a moment, she goes to steady herself and nicks her hand with her sandwich knife.] Ow!
[Wait. Sandwich knife?]
...Okay, these aren't my clothes. That's not my knife. Why am I making a sandwich, ze?
[Taking a moment to take it
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Make me a monte cristo.
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I'm enjoying taunting you.
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...I guess I deserve it, ze. Fine, I'll make you your sandwich. Just tell me how to make it.
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Here we go. This shouldn't be too hard. I'm hungry, so I'll make two. If you expect me to deliver it, though, forget it, ze.
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You have his job. You need to deliver it.
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Open up, ze! I've got your sandwich!
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That was awfully fast. Did you even properly cook it?
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-She took the box from Marisarthur, eying it cautiously. She hadn't recalled asking for the extra sugar and jam...-
What are you trying to accomplish here?
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