Oh, the ball's been taken. It's Calci Rust's private hall. One after the other with exquisite footwork. This is a pinch. I'm in trouble, what should I do? I don't want to lose. Defeat is such a prick. No more on the day I lost anything... And shoots at the goal post. It's settled.

It's a suicide point.

"Shit. Ahhh. Ahhh."

"Master Calci Rust is your mistress."

A disappointing prince. Sounds kind of sad. I can comfort you, but what do I do?

Still not tired enough, Master Calcirust became enthusiastic about football, obsessed, drowned, and ran so far as to drown already. How much do you like it? More than me? Well, I thought you might.