[The camera snaps on to show a familiar face: a very familiar and eerily stitched up face. The good doctor Stein leans back in his chair, regarding the camera, and then he gives a small smile and goes on cheerily
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Oh. That's a shame. I could try and wield you, if you'd like. It would be easier for a new partner to work with any pointers you'd have from having a meister for a short time. [glasses flash.]
... No, that isn't part of the training. [dear god what is Spirit teaching them]
W-well it's a relief we don't have to do the stairs-thing, de arimasu.
[If only Stein hadn't done that last glasses flash.]
No! I-I mean...thanks for your offer, de arimasu, but I wasn't thinking of getting a meister anyway, de arimasu! So no need to worry about me, de arimasu!
[He slams down the communicator's screen, cutting off the feed. He spends the rest of the day hiding under his bed, stewing over what was better: possible dissection by the guy with the flashing glasses, or possible death by witches bursting into his apartment.]
[It doesn't help that Stein's smile reminds him a little bit too much of EXPERIMENTS! and DISSECTION! for comfort]
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That's a shame. I'd like to see what you can do.
[glasses flash.]
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Ah...I-I'm sure you would, de arimasu. (But I don't want to see what you can do, de arimasu.)
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Besides, don't we have to fall down stairs to figure it out, de arimasu? [Because there is no way he's doing that.]
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... No, that isn't part of the training.
[dear god what is Spirit teaching them]
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[If only Stein hadn't done that last glasses flash.]
No! I-I mean...thanks for your offer, de arimasu, but I wasn't thinking of getting a meister anyway, de arimasu! So no need to worry about me, de arimasu!
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[he's a realistic person - it will happen eventually. Death City isn't impenetrable, as Halloween clearly showed.]
But, you've probably made up your mind for a reason~ Oh well. Good luck out there.
[so cheery. he smiles and his glasses flash as if to say, "they might even let me have your dead body".]
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C-can't I just hide when the witches come, de arimasu?
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[He slams down the communicator's screen, cutting off the feed. He spends the rest of the day hiding under his bed, stewing over what was better: possible dissection by the guy with the flashing glasses, or possible death by witches bursting into his apartment.]
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