[The camera's turned on, but there's no much happening yet. Just a shot of the sky over the deck. Beatty sighs a bit off screen and then there's a soft sound, like a thud. Faint trickling of liquid and then the flick of a lighter. The camera still hasn't moved. It's not until the unmistakable sound of fire really starts to get going that his hand
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...what are you burning?
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You can't burn them all, you pathetic greyface. And you can't stop us from reading. And enjoying it. And learning while we do. You can't do a fucking thing to stop us. As a matter of fact, you wanna know what I'm going to do right now?
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You're just a sad, indoctrinated old robot. Right now to most of the people here you look like a lunatic. Not someone intending to help them. Not a hero of the people. A book-burning anti-intellectual nutcase.
And actually no. I'm going to memorize it. You can only burn the paper, Beatty baby. You can't burn ideas.
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Stop trying.
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Who do you think you-- that is-- that is not how you're supposed to make a point!
[ So in less that two minutes he'll be on the deck, a murderous look and looking for Beatty's figure even though the glimpse he's caught of him was vague, ready to pounce on him upon seeing. ]
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What do you think you're doing.
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You can see as well as I can.
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[Taking hold of the cane, he yanked it toward him under his arm, pulling Nygma off balance. His intent was to follow up with a hard blow under the chin.]
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