[crackle, thud, the thin skif of sandals spreading across gravel. then someone's knees fall to the ground. the violent sounds of someone thoroughly losing their breakfast hit the communicator around the same time the breakfast hits the street. slowly, she gets to her feet, and snorts, a small, nauseous quaver in the sharpness of her throat.]--
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... Lucky you.
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Yeah, lucky me.
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At least you didn't lose your memory. I get tired of explaining this place.
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