Ow-- ow, you beast, I am going, stop that. [Bush is in a red coat with pipe-clayed trim and belt today, and that feels a little odd, but then it also feels proper. A piece of tin slag, roughly the same shape as a heart, is pinned to his breast, and one white trouser leg is cut away to reveal his metal leg.]
Oh lord, you've run down, sir.
[With large gestures, he turns the key, tilting his whole torso into a strange pose at every crank]
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Oh lord, you've run down, sir.
[With large gestures, he turns the key, tilting his whole torso into a strange pose at every crank]