[A crackle of static. A red-haired man perched gingerly upon something white and crooked peers down upon the screen with a distinctly unamused expression painted across his face.
He frowns.]Decrepit buildings strewn every which way. A stench of irksome misery hanging about the very air
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Eh? Who are you?
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...but you didn't answer my question.
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You know me, but I don't recognize you at all. We're not from the same time, I guess. Probably?
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... Ah. Confound this wretched place.]
An astute observation, Oz Vessalius.
I am Rufus Barma. Your presence in this world is duly noted.
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...Greetings then, Duke Rufus Barma. [The brat can be polite when he has to be. And he doesn't know you well enough to be rude... eheh, yet.]
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"Place" doesn't have much meaning here, Sir Barma. May I inquire as to when we met?
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You ask for far more than you are entitled to.
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You ask, but you do not supply. What a verbose brat.
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[Ask and supply... give and take.] An exchange, then?
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