[ Wordlessly, Zacharie reaches into his pocket to take out the music box. He winds it up, and it begins to play. Immediately, this is a tune the Batter should recognize from home. Something about the ambiance. It is a pocketed piece of their world.

It sounds discordant and awful to anyone else who hears it, but to them... ]

You're here.

You're a person.

Neither of these things destroy the fact that you are The Batter.

Nothing could erase you. Not really. You cannot curl up and die from starvation again and again and again. You cannot let boredom and loss decide whether you are alive or dead.

I do not hate you, le Batteur, but the only way to make you realize your reality is through pain, because pain is the only language you speak so far.