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- Why are we still here? I need to be out there, in the thick of it, destroying things. You don't understand how serious I am when I say I "need". Look at my face. Tell me I'm not serious.
You look pretty serious.
- I am. People don't understand—I'm an artist. My canvas is the world itself, and my paints are the flames I conjure. People just can't appreciate the beauty, the majesty of my compositions.
That sounds... inspired.
- Oh, it is. And the brilliance of it all—the true brilliance—is that the works themselves are so fleeting. They spark into life and scatter to ashes; only the memory remains.
- Yes, you see? The things we remember, the past, will always be more beautiful to us. No matter what the present or the future holds, we always romanticize what's gone. That is my art's beauty.
- Profound. Thank you for sharing that with me.
- Oops, look at the time.
- You're frightening, and I'm leaving.
- And I need to be somewhere else.