[When the voice feed starts, it sounds as if the muttering could be someone musing to themselves. An accidental recording, perhaps? But as it rambles on and on and on, it becomes clear that there is some sort of purpose to it, anyway.]
When a man finds himself midway to being marooned, it is both customary per the will and reason and otherwise wis
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[Yes, very well, that makes him far more kindly disposed to this person.]
And how much yours is she, eh, is it all?
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Ah, but it's captain. Much more than sailor.
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How much more?
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You may have to start making yourself comfortable here. It may be a while before you see home again. [Her voice softens, 'if ever' being the silent implication.]
As for the rum -- [a light, pleasant chuckle] -- it's nearly difficult to tell whether you're really worried about being "marooned" when you're asking about where to have a drink. [There's a faintly, wry touch to her words.]
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[He clears his throat. Yes, all right, again.] I am calm. I am merely requiring the presence of my ship which, if my effects are present, then my ship is as well, it's just-- gone.
Gone.
[Yes. A pause.]
And it's rum that helps with the marooning, it makes the time go faster. Or it did last time.
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But I'm afraid that there really isn't much you can do for now. Can't you at least take comfort in knowing that your ship is back home, waiting ever so patiently for your return?
[With a hint of incredulity:] Do you find yourself stranded often?
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My ship is here. Canada. If I'm--
[Another pause. Right.]
You confuse me..
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...You.
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Er. Me. Yes. Me?
[A pause. Very clearly:] Why are you a piece of my marooning.
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[There's a slight smile before he continues.]
Some more worth the visit than others.
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And how is it that one differentiates the difference between the two, mate.
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[Yeah, he's noticed your odd ensemble, but he won't comment on it. Not yet at least.]
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No, not true.
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