My name's Wilford, by the way.
That's nice.Why aren't you coming with me?
Because I'm not afraid of you.But I have a fancy spear. And I'm dangerous. Really dangerous!
You're not dangerous.Why not?
Weapons don't make people dangerous. You're not thinking enough.I'm not?
No, I mean that's it. You're not thinking enough. Men who think all the time are the most dangerous men in the world. A normal man builds a weapon and strikes down his brother. A thinking man builds an army and topples his nation.Oh. Why would a normal man kill his brother?
He wasn't really thinking at the time.Al: Ignore guard. Throw a rock into the zappy dome. See what happens to it.
You're not really a boy, are you?
I'm older than I look.How old ARE you?
Ninety-seven. I'm turning ninety-eight on Twentieth Fog.You're pulling my leg.
Sure.You don't seem very surprised by any of this.
I was more surprised by what you said a minute ago. You locked up people with special powers in the Royal Prison?Oh, I didn't lock them up. I just guarded the locks.
Weren't you afraid they'd just throw lightning through the locks or somethin and escape? Weren't you afraid to die then?I don't like it when there's a lot of noise and movement and disruption. I like tomorrow to be the same as today and yesterday. Getting paid to make sure that happens was nice.
Why'd you quit?I didn't quit. I was transferred.
There was more gold in a job yelling at bleach-blonde men in the middle of the night than in a job protecting incredibly powerful prisoners?I didn't have a choice. The prisoners were relocated.
Hey, look. The rock just sorta phased through.What if it just burnt up really fast?
I guess we'll never know, huh?You're not thinking about...
I'm always thinking, Wilford.