[Any sensible man would stay far away from the keyboard when he was drunk, would stay far away from anything involving words and company and other people listening to him.
Penemue, for all his intelligence, is not a sensible man.]
Where the fuck are the fucking words?
[Yes, he sounds very drunk, and Scottish, and drunk.
...Boy is he going to
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[A growl, and a thud like he's just slammed a limb against something]
They won't fucking come, the fucking bastards.
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[Pause]
...Or on the Internet. [Lowering his voice:] There are words here.
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No, no - it's who I am. I'm Penemue, I'm a Watcher.
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...And I don't know why.
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