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<blockquote data-quote="Davies" data-source="post: 8417114" data-attributes="member: 30538"><p><strong>Interlude</strong></p><p></p><p>"This isn't your fault," says Zhang Xingxing.</p><p></p><p>"Isn't it," says Sun Wukong, not looking up at her. It's not really a question when he speaks.</p><p></p><p>They are seated on a bench outside the room that the Lancet has commandeered for her own purposes. Zhang's people have gently, and not so gently, pushed back the reporters who would normally be gathering around the area so these two can have their space.</p><p></p><p>"No, it's not," she says, just a bit heatedly. "Everyone who takes part in this thing did so with the understanding that they might face serious injury, regardless of what the Lancer or whatever her name is might claim. The match-ups were randomly determined. You did not choose to face this guy, so you're not responsible for what happens --"</p><p></p><p>"Except that I could have surrendered, once he succeeded in taking away the rod." Wukong looks at his hand, where the compliant gold-hooped rod would normally be. As far as he knows, it is still lying, abandoned, on the arena floor.</p><p></p><p>"What good would that have done?" She answers her own question. "None, that's what! He'd still have been sick, and then he would have been facing that hitman, Bravo, who wouldn't have bothered to try and help him!"</p><p></p><p>"Perhaps you're right," he says, still not looking up.</p><p></p><p>Zhang has yearned for that admission since she met this crazy hairy man. Now that she has it, she wonders why she did so. It is a miserable gift, really. "Then ... please don't be sad like this," she says. "I, I don't like it when you're sad like this. It makes me feel things I don't like feeling."</p><p></p><p>At last, he turns to look at his friend and patron, and finally gives her a small smile unlike his usual grin. "That is friendship, brilliant lady," he tells her.</p><p></p><p>She wants to say something more, but then the door opens, and the Lancet emerges. She looks at Wukong, and shakes her head sadly.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Davies, post: 8417114, member: 30538"] [b]Interlude[/b] "This isn't your fault," says Zhang Xingxing. "Isn't it," says Sun Wukong, not looking up at her. It's not really a question when he speaks. They are seated on a bench outside the room that the Lancet has commandeered for her own purposes. Zhang's people have gently, and not so gently, pushed back the reporters who would normally be gathering around the area so these two can have their space. "No, it's not," she says, just a bit heatedly. "Everyone who takes part in this thing did so with the understanding that they might face serious injury, regardless of what the Lancer or whatever her name is might claim. The match-ups were randomly determined. You did not choose to face this guy, so you're not responsible for what happens --" "Except that I could have surrendered, once he succeeded in taking away the rod." Wukong looks at his hand, where the compliant gold-hooped rod would normally be. As far as he knows, it is still lying, abandoned, on the arena floor. "What good would that have done?" She answers her own question. "None, that's what! He'd still have been sick, and then he would have been facing that hitman, Bravo, who wouldn't have bothered to try and help him!" "Perhaps you're right," he says, still not looking up. Zhang has yearned for that admission since she met this crazy hairy man. Now that she has it, she wonders why she did so. It is a miserable gift, really. "Then ... please don't be sad like this," she says. "I, I don't like it when you're sad like this. It makes me feel things I don't like feeling." At last, he turns to look at his friend and patron, and finally gives her a small smile unlike his usual grin. "That is friendship, brilliant lady," he tells her. She wants to say something more, but then the door opens, and the Lancet emerges. She looks at Wukong, and shakes her head sadly. [/QUOTE]
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