Please stop struggling. It won't make a difference. Though, I suppose that sounds clichéd. What else are you supposed to do, with the noose around your neck?
Forgive my indulgences. I'm rarely given the chance to be candid. We've all night. Why not delay the inevitable a bit?
Tell me, why did you choose the path you did? I find the subject of motivation endlessly fascinating.
Heh.
Yes, it must be difficult to speak. Let me loosen that for you. Better?
Really? Don't beg. You should've seen this coming. Be quiet. Seriously. Be quiet.
Be. Quiet.
Better. Why did you become what you are? I want to know.
That's not an answer. That's another cliché. There's nothing behind it. Just motion. Perpetual motion. Don't tell me that's all you are.
What of this? This trinket? The whole foundation for this place. Come on.
Give me something.
Just like everyone else, then. My fault for hoping for more. It's all the people. Just going and going and going. Spinning out of control. Writhing. No reason. No higher purpose. I should know.
We should get on with it. For my mental hygiene.
Stay still. No. That's struggling. I just told you to stay still.
Stay still and look at me.
Look at me.
Look.
Good. Now, really look at me. That's it. That's it. Now, I want you to tell me something. What are you afraid of?
What are you afraid of, Kobayakowa?