It wouldn't really work as well with us trying to scale puzzle walls and avoid yellow-eyed monsters at eighty. Hopefully by then somehow the world will be calmer. [Quentin has no choice but to hope, but that's been him, through and through. The believer. The hopeful one. The ridiculous optimist who only recently started to lose sight of it. It's easy to remember though, in this place. In the happy life he managed to steal.]

The puzzle was for the mosaic to reflect to the beauty of all life. [Quentin whistles and smiles.] Easy, right? And not at all vague and confusing. [He doesn't mind that she doesn't wipe the fruit off, it's not as if this is real, although he thinks the fruit may taste very real. And very fresh.]

It was an illusion. The beauty of all life couldn't be made in tiles. It was made after living a lifetime of beauty. [He offers her one of the tiles to looks at, colorful but rather simple.] Tricky, right?