Signal (Interlude)

Daphne Blake: Jessy!

The Head: My sweet!

DB: How art thou dressed on this fine, fine, fine evening?

TH: I am but cloaked in the silk of some fine stocking

DB: And what art thou doing under Luna's bright star?

TH: I am retrieving the wings from the oven, charred

DB: Oh. At what o'clock shall I call to thee?

TH: At the time of 3 hours 54 past midnight

DB: I will not fail, 'tis twenty year till then. I forgot why I did call thee back, tho

TH: Alloweth me to stand here till thee remember

DB: I shall forget, to have thee stand there, remembering how I love thy company

TH: And I'll but stay to have thee still forget, forgetting any other home but this. I long for us to touch once more...

DB: But I fear our signal grows ever so poor...