Dear Mr. Mandrake:
There is entirely too much form and substance here. Where's that blissful rest you promised? You'll give my essence an ulcer with all this existing you've subjected me to.
This is almost the most pathetic dismissal I've ever had the displeasure of enduring. 1 I must admit that I expected better of you after that
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What?
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There are no magicians or anyone named Mandrake as far as I recall.
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No magicians here at all, you say? This Holloway knows how to make a djinni's day!
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[Not only did he slow himself down, but he spelled it out! How very kind he must be feeling today.]
I begin to think you are hard of hearing. Should I start bellowing it?
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Nein. I just... do not know what that is. I am sorry.
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Don't be! The less you know, the less you'll summon me - catch my drift?
You probably don't, therefore I'll elaborate this once: A djinni is a spirit of immense power that humans like to enslave to do their bidding. The less you know about them, the less you can enslave them - therefore, your ignorance is my bliss.
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That is good then? Enslaving anyone is a horrible thing.
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Good to see that we're on the same page, Miss...?
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That wouldn't happen to be your birth name, would it?
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[What kind of question is that jeez.]
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[Just so you know, he's grinning. Ecstatic, even. But then a bit dejected.]
That confirms you are no magician, at least. Small favours and all that.
[Darn. He wanted another one foolish enough to give him a birth name with which to have power over.]
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[Fffffffffff]
You are welcome?
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Do mind how freely you hand it out, though. You never know when there's someone around that could use it against you.
[A tip in exchange! Bartimaeus likes you, Mimmi. I apologise in advance for that.]
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