[The bar door suddenly swings open. As the lightning crashes behind him, illuminating a crisp white outline around his figure, Ian walks silently in, dripping with rain water, a hoodie drawn over his unruly green hair. He glances to the left-to the right-before sitting down with a shadow crossing his features. After a beat, he looks up to the
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[Because anything that heals is fascinating, he's gotta say.]
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He's, you know, that longnose watching you play darts and kind of laughing. BE GLAD, you've cheered him up, obviously 8| ]
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Oh thank god.]
Usopp! How's it going, ol' buddy ol' pal~?
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Not too bad. I think it could be going worse, anyway. [ Driiiink. Not water for him, bro. And a somewhat sharp look, mister Got Drafted. ] How have things been for you?
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That's quite the discount, isn't it?
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[ Sucks that your income is down about 100%, pal. ]
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Is that a physical kinda' thing? Like being stabbed in the foot?
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[Because when his medicine doesn't work for something, he just instinctively feels guilty. :|]
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But he still fails at being stealthy, so at some point he just makes this...mildly horrified, mostly disgusted high-pitched sound before he can stop himself. Because even if he can't see it all that well, he can see enough and ew ew ew--]
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Ian looks toward the noise straight at Marcell-nighttime light isn't a problem for his eyes, and when he notices the face he blinks in surprise and drops the knife.]
Marcell??
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But this being nighttime and him not being entirely used to it, he's run into a tree instead.]
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He rushes over to help the poor kid up.]
Marcell, wait a sec! Are you okay? Did you hit your nose or something?!
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