[He appears on the plane, rail-thin, hair matted and scorched. He takes a few steps, seems to fall asleep on his feet, sway, startle awake and stagger forward again. He's mumbling to himself all the while.]
Our blood is a book. But what... But what if....?
[He manages a few more steps.] Our blood... [And he topples over.]
Our blood is a book. But what... But what if....?
[He manages a few more steps.] Our blood... [And he topples over.]
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