I apologize. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we had to defend ourselves against an unwarranted attack. I’m sorry that your crew was stupid enough to fire on a station filled with a quarter million civilians, including your own people. And I’m sorry I waited as long as I did before I blew them all straight to hell.
As with everything else…it’s the thought that counts.
OK, real talk for a minute. Look at how plain Londo’s clothes are: no gilded waistcoat, no giant-ass brooch. Look at how the camera angle functions to make Londo appear much smaller than the Centauri he is talking to. Look at how is facial expression is changed to that of a man who has never known power–wide eyes, unsure brow, lips pursed as if he is trying not to say something.
I don’t care if you think the visuals of this show are lackluster–you are probably right. But the filming of this show has brilliant moments, and this is one of them.
Vir, it is a terrible truth, but as one accumulates power one loses friends. One only has those who wish to use you, and those you wish to use. And yet, in all of this, you have somehow managed to walk through the corridors of power and not be touched. I can only assume you haven’t been paying attention. And still, the hideous truth is, you are the closest thing I have to a friend. I am as shocked and dismayed by this as you are.
How many Centauri does it take to, erm, “screw in a lightbulb”? Just one! But in the great old days of the Republic, hundreds of servants would change a thousand lightbulbs at our slightest whim! …Well, I guess you had to be there.