Conversation · Empathy

Kim also tries not to look at the pile of tape viscera on the carpet. Or the weird suitcase on the hat rack. Or the potted plant dying in the corner. But it's all just too morbid to ignore.

The man is finding it hard not to trip on the tape -- and not to send any of the bottles rolling across the floor...

...where unidentifiable sludge makes it hard for him to breathe. Smells of vomit in here.

"This is where the magic happens."

"And by that you mean crimes against humanity?"

"This is an expression of me. My individualism."

"I have no idea what that means." He looks toward the exit, longingly.

"I defied bourgeoisie morality in here. Defied it hard."

"Well, crimes against myself anyway."

"No, I meant disco... never mind."

"I know what you meant." He looks toward the exit, longingly.

"Yes. Disco doorgunning villagers."

"I have no idea what that means." He looks toward the exit, longingly.

Say nothing. Nod stoically.

He takes a step toward the door. Like he'd like to leave.

"Got my own little Co Hoi here."

"I can see that. The potted plant under the table is a Seraise Fern. They have those in South Safre too. All things considered..." He looks around, as if to check.

"It's not as bad as I thought. There are no elephant corpses. Should we go maybe?"

"I did it -- my way."

"I can see that." He takes a step toward the door. "You're the RCM's own Soldier of the Apocalypse, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful," he nods, then looks toward the exit, longingly.

"No. I am something much more."

"Of course." He nods, then looks longingly toward the exit.

"I can see that." He takes a step toward the door. It looks like he'd like to leave now. The atmosphere is oppressive.

"I'm sorry for... this."

"No problem, officer." He takes a step toward the door. Like he'd like to leave.

"You're looking at the destruction?"

He nods.