| W: I think it is you who doesn't understand, Black! My only thought is to give you back this curse you try to infect me with. But you will know that your influence was pitifully consumed by the contrast of my knowledge, and you reside in me a prisoner. |
| B: Spacious prison, my friend! And with all the amenities of your love, my humble provider! Maybe I can't break out, but I can sure take up space! And one of these days I'll blot poor, little Mr. White right out of existence, oh boo-hoo! |
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