[This particular voice on the intranets today is childish, curious, and BRAND NEW...yet familiar, at least to a small handful of people.]
--this a microphone?
[Tap. Tap tap tap. Then the voice again.]
Oh, is it recording what I say now? I should say something. Hello! My name is Flandre Scarlet, and--now what should I say?
[A moment longer
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[ Crap. What's the word? ]
[ And, lacking a pause for the shift, either (and mostly because it's easier to say her name this way), she switches back to English. ] My name is Meiling. And yes, that's a microphone. Can you hear me, too? [ Maybe the young-sounding girl's machine was on the fritz? ]
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Hello, Meiling! I can hear Meiling!
[She does stumble a bit over the Clearly Not Franch name, though.]
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...or, no, sounds go in it, sounds come out of the speaker things. Why are they called speakers, anyway? They don't really speak, do they?
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[Flandre is imagining a mouth deconstructed into its constituent parts. Or at the very least separate pieces.]
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