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Not I!

You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

How’s the nuts?

Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier I suppose. One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

(In sudden alarm.) You’ve a hard chancre.

Not likely.

I feel it.

A talisman. Heirloom.

For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?

You’ll know me the next time.