They brought me a chemical concoction of my other self's creation, one that enables you to throw fire from your hands if you consume it.
[She doesn't know why she's telling him, except perhaps that it might be nice to tell someone who doesn't care very much about her, and so (hopefully) won't react with much concern.]
It may be dying out. I drank only a little and that last spurt of flames was weaker than the first. As for how it does it-- that's a mystery I'm still unraveling, but the chemical compounds are a bit . . . messy.
Don't get sassy. I can break it down for you if you like, but "messy" is really the best way to describe it. It's slapdash. It's sloppy. It works, but it works in the same way a tire with a patch works: it'll get you where you want, but it isn't going to last for long.
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They sent you a flamethrower?
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[Hrhg. There's a pause.]
They brought me a chemical concoction of my other self's creation, one that enables you to throw fire from your hands if you consume it.
[She doesn't know why she's telling him, except perhaps that it might be nice to tell someone who doesn't care very much about her, and so (hopefully) won't react with much concern.]
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I think I'm supposed to be more worried, but. That is cool. How does it do it? How long does it last?
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Do you think there's a better way to make it, then?
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I'm a fair bit disappointed, honestly. I can imagine a few reasons why the other Rosalind might have done such sloppy work, but it's
[. . .]
Embarrassing, really.
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No, I completely read what you wrote there, but how? How is that even possible? Possible that they exist, let alone how does somebody study them?
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Because that's amazing.
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Should I look up your office hours, too?
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