Drake was packing up his office, setting Delirium's psychedelic frogs aside for Karla and trying to decide what to do with his framed autographs from Merlin and Arthur. But the music was still cheery -- today's selection included
Abbacadabra.
The door was open.
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Somehow, seeing Drake packing away his things made it all seem so...final.
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Why anyone would want Merlin and Arthur's signatures was beyond her, but who knew? People were weird.
[Apparently, pressing post is mandatory now. Whatever.]
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"Hey," she greeted, tapping on the door frame. "Heard you were in San Francisco recently."
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