19.05 It’s “Gobos”
“It’s “Gobos”” It’s time for the gobos to feel a bit uncomfortable. There’s no denying that almost all of them like to touch unusual items. The world outside their cave is strange and unusual. Or, at the very least, within a mile’s distance of the opening… some of the gobos did hunt and forage.
Just a reminder that whenever a non-gobo can understand Gobospeak, it appears like this.
Be careful out there.
↓ Transcript
Panel 1
Puccini pushes up from the table, his cape slipping off the back of the chair as he slides it out with a hand. Head tilted slightly away, he addresses the two gobos unseen across the table from him.
Puccini: Let’s go to that room so...
Hob, off-screen: <Room?>
Puccini: ...we can talk...
Nob, off-screen: <You had pointed out two rooms.>
Panel 2
Puccini freezes in place, a confused look on his face as he thinks.
Puccini: Yes, and I said not to use the one... but you didn't know what I was saying.
Panel 3
Puccini leans over the table, eyeing the off-screen gobos.
Puccini: You goblins...
Hob: <"Gobos">
Puccini: You know not to touch anything... unusual?
Panel 4
Scene shifts to Nob and Hob, seated in the two adjacent chairs across the table. Nob gives an awkward collar tug while Hob whistles innocently, lowering the helmet visor.
Puccini pushes up from the table, his cape slipping off the back of the chair as he slides it out with a hand. Head tilted slightly away, he addresses the two gobos unseen across the table from him.
Puccini: Let’s go to that room so...
Hob, off-screen: <Room?>
Puccini: ...we can talk...
Nob, off-screen: <You had pointed out two rooms.>
Panel 2
Puccini freezes in place, a confused look on his face as he thinks.
Puccini: Yes, and I said not to use the one... but you didn't know what I was saying.
Panel 3
Puccini leans over the table, eyeing the off-screen gobos.
Puccini: You goblins...
Hob: <"Gobos">
Puccini: You know not to touch anything... unusual?
Panel 4
Scene shifts to Nob and Hob, seated in the two adjacent chairs across the table. Nob gives an awkward collar tug while Hob whistles innocently, lowering the helmet visor.
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