[He has to think about this. He's only eight, not the most stellar command of the flow of time. But he was six then, and he's eight now. he can do math, yes, thank you, even if it requires his fingers to get hold of that whole 'remainder' thing.]
[He takes out a very crumpled picture from his pocket. It's more than two years old, their mom stopped taking pictures after a while. Too many kids to photograph, too expensive and too much effort. Temple unfolds it very carefully, doesn't want it to rip.]
Obviously.
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I went to schools for rich kids. Sons and daughters of presidents and ambassadors. I'm pretty sure one of them will end up ruling the world.
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Santa rules the world.
[Don't be stupid, Dante.]
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Well, someone has to watch things when Santa gets busy.
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[ 8< ]
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But he still has helpers, right? Santa needs elves and helpers to give him a hand, because the world is a very big place.
{He has a fleeting thought of the ass-wipes from his high-school days turning into elves and he can't help but smile for a second.}
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Is that what grownups do when they disappear?
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Disappear? What do you mean, disappear?
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Two. Two years.
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Do YOU remember your brother's name?
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No. But I remember what he looks like!
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What does he look like?
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( ... )
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