I still can't figure out why the Pevensie kid isn't identical to me at that age. [Close, undeniably, but not the twin-like confusion he grows to. And, studiously avoiding elephants in the room, Chase should be counting his lucky stars not to be compelled to share Caspian's recent confusion of them. The only think worse than being involved would be being forced to share.

He rubs his mouth, in memoriam, and shrugs, stepping forward to hold the door for her as they emerge out into the night.] Maybe I should have given up trying to make sense of it when the other me turned out to have wings. Now that's weird.