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...