Fake-Mia, stroking a stuffed crow: The Grim Reaper beckons...I feel his icy grip around my throat....The breath of his hounds at my heels, the unrelenting Rat-tat-tat of his scythe on my chamber door....
Fake-Mia: And you...
Ethan:...
Fake-Mia: With your blithe request, you only hasten his inevitable triumph...Is that what you desire?
Ethan:...
Fake-Mia, quickly: Is that what you desire, Ethan?
Ethan:....I just wanted you to get us some bagels.










