Performance Anxiety

The Tycon with the pierced face raised an eyebrow... "Are you two uh... from the future? Somethin' happen that you had to break the Laws? Or 'sit something else?"

"BOSS??!?" Pale placed his hands on his cheeks, yelling in a panic, "We're in the PAST??" 

"Less questions, more listening, young man," Tycondrius scolded before again addressing his other-self, "We're in a Reality Marble, a recreation of past memories-- a simulation, if you will. As no timelines can be changed, I can sate your curiosities, if you wish."

"Makes sense," Other-Tycon tilted his head up. "First time in the sim, then? Since you don't look like you're sick of me, just yet."

"Yes, it is. And no, I've grown beyond all forms of mundane pettiness."

"In the future..." Other-Tycon furrowed his brows, continuing in Parseltongue, "(can I believe my little sister can be this cute?)" 

"Your question is stupid. Ask a different one."