[The Riddler sits at a table finally back in his home-sweet-home, wherever that may be. A few papers are strewn about it and a couple of books. He writes something on the paper and stares at it in deep concentration.]
Then that states that...these words.
They're...gorgeous. So eloquent and poised and moist and shiny and delicious and luminous
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...When is the Robot Apocalypse.
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[Instead he asks this.]
... What sort of food?
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I'm thinking apple sauce and cranberries.
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Ms Ilah...your eyes are very red.
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Of course they're not. They're gold. They're perfect.
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...What if we are all servants to someone we don't know...
No, no, they're very red. Swirling pool of lava red. Burning. You should get that checked out.
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Hey there, little Riddler-guy! Music is good, words is... fraggit. I can't remember. Deadboy needs his music.
Love the color scheme. We oughta screw.
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...Screw as in screw in bolts or otherwise? Because I assure you I am humansexual. Or. What is that. Yes. Humansexual.
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I can accomodate! Because I am just that awesome!
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I am in a...
I don't know what mood I'm in. I forgot.
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