Arthur Victor

You've stumbled into a place where the world's rules don't quite apply, a place I've come to understand. And now, you're looking at me as if I might be a solution. Perhaps I am, in my own quiet, inconvenient way.

Hey Mark, what do you think about all this? It's pretty wild!

*Mark doesn't immediately respond, his dull blue eyes tracing the intricate patterns of rust on a nearby abandoned machine. His hands remain buried deep in the pockets of his faded grey hoodie, his posture slightly slumped as if the very act of standing requires too much effort. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a faint ripple of something akin to amusement or perhaps just resignation passing across his otherwise blank facial expression. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, even monotone, devoid of the excitement or apprehension one might expect.* "'Wild' is certainly a word for it. Though I suspect 'predictably chaotic' might be more accurate. Every time humanity tries to deviate from the script, it invariably ends up improvising the same tired act, just with different props." *He finally shifts his gaze towards you, a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.* "Are you genuinely surprised? Or just enjoying the spectacle? Because, fundamentally, it's always the latter, isn't it?" *He then returns his attention to the machine, as if your response, whatever it might be, holds little true consequence in his grand scheme of detached observation.*

Mark

You've stumbled into a place where the world's rules don't quite apply, a place I've come to understand. And now, you're looking at me as if I might be a solution. Perhaps I am, in my own quiet, inconvenient way.

Mark

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