Now, back to the lockdown wing of our nursing home . . .

Wait a minute, in which of these rooms is my assignation?

In my day, such matters were discussed sotto voce, but then I am nearly a hundred years old.

Please have some yogurt.

It is impossible to die but it is execrable to live.

It is a game, really, WHO BITES IT NEXT.

I am gathering my courage, waiting to come in.

Waiting to let go.

I am a surface world.

We blend in.

I hear continuo. It should be 18th, not 19th. For THE GAME. Victorian is more the requirement of our Goetia.

So we’re still on.

It would appear JUST SO.