Ezio?! Ezio! Signore Machiavelli? Mario?
[A man’s voice, light and warm but so very confused, broadcasts with an abrupt crackle of static. Then, there is a noticeable pause, followed by a heavy cough and the scrape of debris.]
[As he expresses his surprise, a faint Italian accent hangs onto his every word:] Dio mio! (My God!) What a mess! Even my
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[Duh.]
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Ezio? Come now, amico mio (my friend)! We are too old for these games!
[His voice wavers with uncertainty. Now, the device gets a nice view of a palm as he clutches it tightly.]
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This man looked lie he belonged at... something. A Renaissance fair? In a play? While the virus struggles with his own lack of memory, he doesn't notice the stranger fumbling around.]
I'm not you're friend. Look at the device in your hand.
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Oh! You are quite small. [And this stranger is most certainly not his friend. It's just one baffling development after another.] How does one fit in a box of this size? Most importantly, how am I to get you out?
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[Glancing around. Was that a child's voice?]
I hear you but do not see you.
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Ah, there you are. Now, you must tell me what you mean by that, bambina (little girl).
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... This is Nesreca.
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Ah-please, come again? I am afraid I did not catch that.
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Nes-rec-ah.
Look down! At the golem in your hand! [SMILING for him~]
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[White-haired kid doing his best to look plain and utterly harmless at you, Leo. His eyes are a bit rounded because... That's... Some outfit. Allen isn't all that familiar with the fine art of theatre, as his master's tastes in entertainment tended (still tends) towards the risqué, but you, sir, look like you just stepped out of a play.
Allen rather hopes you did.]
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More voices! Could this day become any stranger?
[At least the Apple is well-mannered. He seems to take well to the polite tone and offers his side of the conversation... while speaking to a bent street lamp:] Where is it I've been taken? For what purpose? Now, what on earth is this thing?
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[...Alright, he won't put it past Leo to not know what he's looking at.]
-a street lamp! Unless you mean the device you're holding? [ Waving a little at the camera. Over here, Mister. ] It's a communicator, it lets you contact the rest of us.
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Good afternoon... I don't think your friend is here at the moment. I dare say though, you are a bit of a mess. You've paint on your forehead.
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It's with a little extra effort (how very strange!) that Leonardo responds in his native tongue:] O-Oh, good afternoon, Signore! [Sheepishly, he raises a hand to touch his beret.] You see, I had very little time to prepare beforehand. [His lips pucker thoughtfully.] And neither did Ezio. I wonder what spared him my fate?
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