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Let me take your picture... [Emily:] |
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Is that a camera? [Thomson:] |
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Yes, it is. |
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And when I light the powder... [Emily:] |
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Ah! How long does it take? [Thomson:] |
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Well, are you very good at sitting still? [Emily:] |
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Why do you ask? [Thomson:] |
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For, if you're not, then we'll have to clamp your head in place... [Emily:] |
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You really do that? [Thomson:] |
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You'd be surprised how often. [Emily:] |
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I've had enough of clamps... [Thomson:] |
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I don't understand... [Emily:] |
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He doesn't, does he... [Thomson:] |
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What are all these bruises? [Emily:] |
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Does he know where he is? [Thomson:] |
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These lacerations... may |
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I look? [Emily:] |
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What's all this for? [Thomson:] |
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Why is she here? |
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She doesn't seem to be insane at all... |
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Would you allow me to place these flowers in your hair? [Emily:] |
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He seems so nervous... [Thomson:] |
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Pardon me... [Emily:] |
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He's very pretty... [Thomson:] |
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There now... better then by far. [Emily:] |
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Should we hide the scar? [Thomson:] |
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No! The scar is beautiful... it's like a heart... [Emily:] |
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I'm like Ophelia again. |
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Is it ever over? |
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Will never end? |
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What accounts for this morbid fascination with this suicidal girls? |
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Pretend you're drowning... moan and sigh... only thing you're not told is the reason why. |
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This obsession is madness at its most perverse. |
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My God, what in the world could be the purpose of this game when every time it ends the same? |
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Poor Shakespeare's turning in his grave! |
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Still I must behave... |
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Doctor's little slave... [Thomson:] |
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No! No, that's perfect! |
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Don't move an inch! |
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That's far more real. |
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I've never seen a face like hers... the world should look upon it... |
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Well, I suppose that's why they've brought me here. |
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Miss I think you... [Emily:] |
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I've done nothing... [Thomson:] |
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She's done more than she knows... [Emily:] |
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I haven't heard those words in years... |
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The Chaser's coming for me... [Thomson:] |
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Why must she be chained? |
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I don't understand... [Emily:] |
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He doesn't, does he... |