*Marco sounds very, very tired.*
If someone could bring me back my cigarettes and lighter, I would greatly appreciate it.
((Dead-ed around midday on the 16th marco is one stubborn fucker, man, so also scattered are boxers, shorts, a flask, and a pocket-sized notebook with most of the pages torn out and nothing written in it.Strikes are claimed;
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Comments 78
Guess who has it?]
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Fuck you, Ripa.
*...except to show off that he did pick up the alien's name from Lilith's wonderful respect for secrecy.*
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[There's the click of him flipping the lighter closed a final time, sealing his fist over it. He's already made the mental note to make this one pay for using his name.]
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...Didn't I just give you this back?
[A hand bearing a flask pops into view.]
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[He's not stupid. He knows what randomly appearing items means. Marco, what did you do?]
You want me to bring it by again, or d'you wanna pick it up later?
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*He laughs a bit, but his heart clearly isn't into it.*
Whatever works for you. I think its empty, anyway.
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[The sound of pages flipping come over the comm.]
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Mon joo...joo acutally like dese t'ings? Dey be tastin' like poison.
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*His laugh manages to sound more tired than the rest of his speech.*
Its an acquired taste.
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[Because by the fucking Loa he doesn't want to be near these things.]
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[This is not a pleased tone.]
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Lucrecia.
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...I'm sorry
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