[And isn't it all the ironic, then, that even here, in this place that would be their only escape, that they aren't even quite the right versions of themselves? He can show his remorse to a Claudia that he did not raise, and she can hear the words from one who did not make her. Even this odd reprieve is a faulty one.
Still. Some version of her lives. It doesn't erase the rest, or ease the remorse that clutches him every time he remembers seeing her burn, but it is something still.]
Still.
I am sorry that this is the only place where such escape exists.
[He's sorry for more than that. He knows his own deeds, his own faults, his own actions in this, and perhaps if he were less cowardly he would say so then.
A beat, and then he asks:]
Your Louis. The one who was here, once. Did he ever say what happened after the theater burned?
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[And isn't it all the ironic, then, that even here, in this place that would be their only escape, that they aren't even quite the right versions of themselves? He can show his remorse to a Claudia that he did not raise, and she can hear the words from one who did not make her. Even this odd reprieve is a faulty one.
Still. Some version of her lives. It doesn't erase the rest, or ease the remorse that clutches him every time he remembers seeing her burn, but it is something still.]
Still.
I am sorry that this is the only place where such escape exists.
[He's sorry for more than that. He knows his own deeds, his own faults, his own actions in this, and perhaps if he were less cowardly he would say so then.
A beat, and then he asks:]
Your Louis. The one who was here, once. Did he ever say what happened after the theater burned?