[The laughter starts before the screen cuts on, a wild barking sound oscillating on the edge of joy and histeria. To those who knew Sirius Black, that laugh is unmistakable, if alarmingly unhinged...and then the screen focuses on the face of a complete stranger. The person pictured is gaunt and haggard, a scraggle of black beard over skin yellowed
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You could do with a bath, young man. Does your home have the modern plumbing in it?
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[Off his rocker, very dirty, and not looking at the screen at the moment.]
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[Prison based PTSD aside, Sirius has rarely responded well to women mothering him. Her utterly direct approach to it is new, however, and he seems completely nonplussed by her.]
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I am afraid I would not know it.
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And you are?
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[Also: she will appreciate the attempt. All that meandering babble the other Imports indulge in confuses her at times.]
I am Mother Squirrel, if you please.
What is your name, young man?
[Yes, 'young man'. He is dirty and in need of care, and so until he gets better, he is a child to her.]
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[Sirius heaves a huge sigh and does NOT say 'Vagabond Wizard', even though he is sorely tempted. IT'S THE CITY, SIRIUS, JUST GO WITH IT.]
Sirius Black. And is there a Father, Brother and Sister Squirrel whom I can look forward to meeting?
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There is a Father Squrrel. Bobbie and Bettie are the names of my children. I do not think you will be meeting them. They are not here with me.
Thank you for asking, Sirius.
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You're most welcome.
[Knee-jerk propriety: the British version of the blue screen of death.]
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May I help you with anything else, Sirius?
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[Wait. Wait. Can we turn this politeness around and use it as a means of escape? Is it possible? THE SHOE IS ON THE OTHER FOOT NOW, LADY.]
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I have as much time as others need.
[And then, politely.]
Good night, Sirius. Please, rest well.
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