Tribore and Quatronostro: *shopping in hidden civilization market*
Tribore: (annoyed) Leave it to a market in Final Space to sell a crocheted sweater. Is this peach? Because it better not be fuchsia!
Merchant: We are in great danger, outlander! Our enemies draw closer with each passing moment. Our people live in fear. Help us, please!
Tribore: Shut the hell up. You don't know what danger is, until you've read my customer satisfaction survey.
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