(Sorrow looks...different, today. His hair is short and styled over to one side; his clothes are civilian and distinctly 50's American, and he isn't wearing his gun. He doesn't look sad or rueful or even pleased at all -- instead, his expression is surprisingly neutral. Cavalier. As if nothing had ever happened, to give him the face he usually wore
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Besides, Joy lives there. Why shouldn't I go?
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Enjoy yourself, Peter.
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I will, of course.
(The screen flickers; cut to the fog, where a staticky image of Sorrow sits perfectly still, staring over his chalkboard, that reads, "..."
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Isn't it ironic? You sound more human now and less like a failed attempt of a saint. More human and uninteresting.
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[This is when he notices the chalkboard and pauses.]
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Those who live in my country may not think it the best idea, because the nation in which I would consider living is not on the best of terms with us.
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Oh. [He cleared his throat. Maybe he was seeing things...] I see. Indeed, then that must be difficult... [He sees the flicker and pauses again.] My apologizes, sir. I might be mistaken but, is there someone behind you?
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(He turns. Nothing there. A small flicker, and he peers back at the video screen. A burst of static, and the spirit is there again, board in hand, with the word "Yes" written on it. When it cuts back to the standard feed, Sorrow looks confused.)
...Ah, right, apparently so. Someone who seems to look like me. Let him do so. He is...over there, and I am over here. Ignore him.
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