The Rabbit Gentleman left the battle game and entered another white space.
The Clown lay there, his head and body having parted ways, with a spring limp between them, sprawled on the ground like a discarded mechanical toy.
"Is the game over?" the Clown asked.
"It is," replied the Rabbit Gentleman slowly walking towards it, "This was the campaign you were responsible for, you should personally settle the game."
"I don't want to see her." The Clown lay motionless on the ground, devoid of its former jubilation, "She said I wasn't funny, she said I didn't understand humor... She said, no matter what I say or do, I would never truly make anyone burst into laughter..."
The Rabbit Gentleman tried to console it, "Humor is not solely defined as she put it; she deliberately narrowed it down to provoke you, it's a form of player resistance in language. You should understand that."
