Brad Crawford--a Brad Crawford, anyway, if such a distinction is meaningful for someone like him in a place like this--steps into the Nexus, and stops. A curious look passes across his face, slowly fading into a distant, calculating semblance of a smile, and after a moment he walks very deliberately and for no obvious reason 15 paces to one side
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I suppose not, if you don't think you have any control. If you're in control, well . . . whole possible time-lines are erased every time you make any decision, so, I'd say yes, it probably does matter a bit.
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Axel's eyes narrow at Crawford. "If you've already settled on the answer, why bother asking the Nexus?"
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If the answer truly doesn't matter, then surely you won't begrudge the question?
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"Of course not. The Nexus is a playground for us," Axel smirks. "The name's Axel. Want to let me know who I've been exchanging ideas with?"
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The name's Crawford. Play nice, and I might even call you up for some reindeer games some time.
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As for the rest, I think we'll get along just fine.
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