[He's being equally honest. It's about all he does lately, keeping track of everyone, the number of disappearances, the time and day, how many are still left. Trying in vain to discern a pattern. Wondering why almost everyone's gone home except those from their world (Akualma doesn't fit into that category, not exactly), and what it may imply.
An hour. That's a little too late for his liking. If there's going to be any kind of fall-out from this, he would prefer to have noticed it right from the start. Thankfully, nothing particularly awful seems to have happened yet.]
[What's he hoping to hear, really? Of course Allen knows. He saw. And he will forever regret not getting to understand Alma before he left, back to a world Allen can only make dark guesses at. In the end, he doesn't say a thing, just nods at her and turns to leave.]
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[She's sitting on her windowsill, tilting backwards to look outside.]
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How long ago?
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[She's being honest.]
Why?
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[He's being equally honest. It's about all he does lately, keeping track of everyone, the number of disappearances, the time and day, how many are still left. Trying in vain to discern a pattern. Wondering why almost everyone's gone home except those from their world (Akualma doesn't fit into that category, not exactly), and what it may imply.
An hour. That's a little too late for his liking. If there's going to be any kind of fall-out from this, he would prefer to have noticed it right from the start. Thankfully, nothing particularly awful seems to have happened yet.]
...How was he before he left?
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[She tilts forward, her fingers gripping the window sill lightly as she stares at him.]
You know how he was.
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He's not yours, Allen.
That one is already dead.
[So, really -- which Alma is worse off?]
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