I know you, don't I, there lurking in the twisted light of candles and the reflection of the mirror. There's something lost in that, a bitter and brutal vacuous sense of emptiness, the ghost like thunder after lightning. Why the fuck do you always lose?
It's what I'm best at. Paradise lost. Ssssssss.
If you really want to know well...
No. Don't.
Fine. The bridge is a blade and I'm never going back anyway. So here we'll stay.