[The video clicks on to show Vincent in the park. He's sitting quietly in front of a bush of black roses, a pair of rather ornately decorated scissors in his hand. He snips a few, letting them fall to the ground. He snips another, taking it before it can fall to the ground. He has a rather bored expression upon his face.]I wonder how many more will
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Oh, aren't those lovely~♥
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[Also, not paying attention to you. Paying attention to the roses. snip snip~]
They are indeed.
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Might I ask why you're cutting them?
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[Reaches over to one, stroking the petals lovingly. Ah, this one still needed time.]
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And waste roses.
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[snip snip.]
And what do they blame? Perhaps their parents? How very cowardly of them. What with the end of their world, they no longer have those parents around.
[snip snip.]
I wonder what story you could spin... What tale filled with sorrow could you weave about why you are the degenerate you are now~?
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Such a beautiful answer...
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[Strokes one of the roses lovingly.]
So simple, yet... It's meaning is deep.
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Such a dog would be worthy of praise then... It would make pruning them so much easier.
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