[Now this? This is something delicious and beautiful. It's exactly the kind of collapse he's always sort of sensed that Blake had the potential for, and now here it is: the simple, natural byproduct of common human experiences and emotions, no manipulation necessary. It's a work of art, the way he's lashing out at nothing and everything, more concerned with satisfaction than results.
This is, arguably, the kind of thing Schuldig lives to see. Which is why it's strange that he's seeing it, and yet isn't entirely sure if he likes it.]
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This is, arguably, the kind of thing Schuldig lives to see. Which is why it's strange that he's seeing it, and yet isn't entirely sure if he likes it.]
Don't cut yourself on that glass, Mr. President.