Hm? Yeah. Yeah. No, I'm ready. It's just... been a while, you know? I feel like I'm-- out of practice. Rusty. Yeah. Well, it's been a full month, can you believe it? Between work and illness I haven't done a recap since November. Well, yeah, I'm still a little sludgy in the brain. That happens when your head's fulla snot, y'know? I'm sure it'll come back to me... No, don't say that. Don't say it's like riding a bicycle. I ever tell you about this one wipeout I had when I was learning how to ride my first bike? It felt like I had scabs over about 120% of my knees. Like there were parts of the air surrounding them, parts completely unconnected to my body that I had managed to injure and that my body had decided to heal. I thought I was gonna end up looking like Torgo or something.
Huh? Oh, the mike's been on this whole time? And the teletyper? I've just been transmitting this conversation through the internet for anyone to see. Great. And why isn't YOUR end showing up? What's that? Because you're not really here, you're not actually talking to me, and you're a figment of my imagination. Well, wonderful. I suppose I should stop talking to myself and get to work before the madness consumes me completely, then. No, I'm pretty sure you aren't the angel of Death. Look, just because Samit finally played Portal, that doesn't mean that the time of purification is at hand. Yes, I'm certain. Put that scythe down, will you? Right. And the bolt-action rifle. Yes. Good. Thank you. Now get to work.