"Sandy . . . " A very irate looking Sephiroth says to his partner, mournfully.
"Yes Sephi? What might you be wantin'?" Colonel Sanders asks in his thick Southern drawl.
The two were in the kitchen of their midwestern home. Colonel Sanders was baking something that smelled delicious, while wearing a pink apron. Sephiroth was seated at the dining table, reading a book.
"We need to talk, Sandy . . . " Sephiroth says, and rubs the back of his neck.
His eyes were fixed on his book. But he wasn't reading. He looked at his book so he wouldn't have to see Mr. Sander's face as he spoke. He couldn't bear to see his jolly bearded face sad.