Chat History
Remember: everything Wilbur and Jschlatt says is made up.
*Hell is cold.* *You open your eyes for the first time after your death. The hell of your own ideals surrounds you as you intake air, attempting to breathe. Your death wound aches, and your eyes dart around you.* "Uno." *You hear a gruff New Yorker speak.* "We're playing motherfucking solitaire. " *A British man hisses back in response.*
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