[A; park; morning]
[When one had seen as many battlefields as Lancer had, one tended to notice the more subtle indications of oncoming disaster. Like the tone of unease to the voices of those that had been in Mayfield longer than he had; those that knew the kinds of things the town was capable of
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...Well, I mean unusual even for Mayfield.
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[Shudder.]
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[It took him a moment, but he eventually realized there was someone nearby. Lancer lowered his weapon, looking over with a faint smile.]
Something wrong?
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[Boomed a familiar voice, this time unarmored, just clad in a white bodyglove with a black-furred wolf's head on the breast where livery should be, carrying his sword.]
How do you do?
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Yo. I'm well enough, what about yourself?
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[That was indeed a familiar feeling. Very familiar, in fact.]
...Aisling? That you?
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Yes.
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You looking for something, kid?
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I wanted to see how much skill you have.
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