[River is outside, underneath a tree, with her boots resting on a stone wall opposite of her. She seems to be writing something down, by means of a flashlight she's found, but she soon closes the journal, and glances towards the PCD, with an enigmatic smile.]What's the farthest you've ever travelled from home, besides your journey here, to
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A few dozen parsecs in the time it takes to make a choice.
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War.
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Most wars are variations on two or three fucking themes, and all of them could be solved with rulers or a loosened idea of sexuality.
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[Airily.]
So violent and confrontational, for no reason whatsoever. Are you compensating for something?
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[Lighting up a cutesy heart cigarette.]
As if every person and every race doesn't have their reasons. [Slooow drag. Fuck, that's good.] You could call it a bluff; I'd simply bet walking-around money that however many you've seen - which could be many - I've seen more. I've never hopped a spaceship and honeymooned with my space life partner in space West Hollywood, but as far as wars? Fuggedaboutit.
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[She's watching her with something of a curiosity.]
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[River has broken the space-time continuum. Starting a war or eight is nothing surprising to her. She's simply curious.]
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