[The ladies in his life are all adding salt to the wound. :l] Well, today isn't.... I mean, the twenty-first. Yesterday. [Dammit, he knows it isn't going to make sense.] For me. My time.
[A frustrated sigh.] It's not right to, uh... tease a guy about his last day.
Right on time, some trademark Desmond Miles whinging. I'd recommend putting you back there, but I wouldn't wish to impose that sort of suffering on anyone, you know?
Mind if I ask to be around when you get over yourself? If I had a pence for every time you suffered some amount of post-mortem existential angst around here, I'd be filthy bloody rich.
Keep your chin up, soldier. [ Hey, they're both dead here. She just doesn't want to catch you all broken-up over deaths pledged to the nebulous greater good. ]
And that's why you shouldn't be sad. You saved them. [ A halfhearted attempt at reciprocating the gesture. ] I never pegged you as the autolatry type. Just don't let the ego go to your head.
And you are absolutely terrible at impersonating me.
Oh, I'm sorry, should I have some WWDD bracelets printed for the team to wear? Maybe some shirts with your face on them? Doesn't make for a very 'selfless martyr' if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself.
That depends on what this "Animus" is, and on the other world in question. I certainly haven't enjoyed being shipped off to the moon, or living in a city covered in snow when we finally came back down.
...and closing it again. sighing. ] You moron. [ shaking his head. ] Of course they don't. And thanks to you, [ prodding him in the shoulder with a finger. ] Six billion people won't have to. [ no that's not a smile you fuck the right off ]
Now, that we're done giving you your entirely unnecessary share of gratitude, your appearance begs the question "what do you plan to do with your newfound afterlife?"
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