(I do not own the characters or the plot. It's all from Baldur's Gate and its makers.)

"There was, of course, no reason for anything. The world did not have to end in such a manner.

But it did."

"—Can't we have a happier tale?"

"No. This is the one I'm telling."

"But it's so sad! Gorion, Charname is being depressing again!"

"You are such a tattletale, Imoen!"

"Yeah, we'll you're a bu—"

"Imoen."

"Sorry, Gorion."

"If I may continue without being interrupted—"

"—You can't."

"Imoen! Come on!"

"I'm sorry, but your story is too sad."

"Just because you don't like—"

"—It's also completely unrealistic."

"It is not!"

"You, a god?"

"You're only jealous because you died."

"You killed me!"

"You deserved it, too."

"Stop that grumbling. Besides, there were other problems with your story."

"Like what?!"

"Like all the demons. They don't exist."

"It's a story."

"And what about those slimy things?"

"The illithid?"

"Yeah, those. They're gross!"

"They're cool!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Gorion!"

"Stop calling for him!"

"Fine! But if you insist on telling this story, I want to hear more about the mines."

"What mines? In Nashkel?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why do you want to hear about that? That's boring."

"Gold is pretty."

"It's iron! The shortage is a problem. Were you listening at all?!"

"Iron? That's so dirty! It's black. I want gold. And pink! Is anything in it pink?"

"What? No! Nothing's pink! There's lots of red, though. Oh, yes. Red. The color of blood. Blood dripping, blood everywhere. The God of Mur—"

"Stop it, Charname! Ew!"

"You have no sense of art, Imoen."

"And you have no sense of fun."

"I do too!"

"I'm going to bed."

"I haven't finished my story!"

"Doesn't matter. G'night, Charname."

"…Night, Immy."

"Tomorrow I'm telling the story. Rainbows and ponies and shopping. Her name will be Skie."

"Goodnight, Imoen."

"Hehe. Night, Gorion."