[Have a very disheveled Irene - she's definitely the worse for wear, with a bit of a sunburn and visible bug bites and a scratch or two on her neck. She's streaked pretty liberally with grime, what's visible of her clothes looks destroyed and her hair is a limp mess peppered with of bits of twigs and leaves. She looks, in short, like a woman who's
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It's a hairmergency.
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[Irene is baffled by you, you sparkly, shiny creature, but she's attempting to regain her composure, so she replies] You could call it that. [She bats at her hair idly. It's pretty ruined, so she's not too worried at this point]
I believe a long, hot bath is in order, at any rate.
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[Glinda has disappeared for the briefest of moments, Irene may be able to see in the corner of her screen the flick of a perfectly pressed taffeta skirt shuffling around as Glinda appraises an all manner of bottles of varying sizes and colours]
Would you say-- [She calls from off camera her voice distant yet helpful] the flora to which you were exposed would have been more beechlike or elmswoodish?
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(The comment has been removed)
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It was... an experience. Have you been?
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What is 'haggis'?
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[Private]
Have you talked to Brian since you went hiking, or can I just assume you've been incommunicado. [really doesn't want to drag her into this anyway]
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[Private]
I haven't spoken with him, no. [She's not dumb, she knows something must be up if he's changed filters. She turns her head slightly to the side, looking suspicious] Why? Has something happened to him?
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[Private]
Nah, he's fine, luv. No worries.
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