[ The feed turns on, and there is a light shuffling of tiny feet. Inhuman feet. Four of them. It's a kitten! A rather noisy one, at that. Then, a child's voice. Polished down to the last syllable, but caring not to sound pretentious. Some of his words are deliberately stressed to factor in confusion. He's also getting good at hiding that cocky,
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[Franziska would certainly know all about that.]
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Was that what you were asking?
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. . . Seven years? How is that possible? [ He actually knows he's come from a timeline before the one before him, but a regular child wouldn't have found that out by himself. ]
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