... but if you carry the nine on, the impostor fraction is left... no, no that can't be right.
[Out in the fourth floor corridor, the wall beside the door to room 414 is covered in equations, huge bursts of science and maths scrawled in the kind of handwriting you'd expect from a university professor. In little secluded spots along other parts of
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[His accent is even sounding a little different, an dhe doesn't look away from his 'work' as he replies]
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[He trails off, an absent look crossing his face, and slowly lowers the marker.]
.. I don't... what...
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This isn't... I don't know this stuff....
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[He touches his hands to the wall, brushing it over the equations. Again, he dazes off, raising the marker and continuing to write, but jerks his arm down and turns back to her with a sharp breath.]
This isn't me.
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[When in doubt, be sarcastic. It's gotten Mika this far, at least it's funny.
...Sometimes.]
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... how's your head?
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... Um... did you want something?
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[He just stares. What is he supposed to say to that?]
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