Well, this has been a great start to the month, I have to say. You got me on this one, Deities. Usually I can brush off whatever happens in this blasted city with a professional bout of devil-may-care - have been for several months now, mind - but I see the ante has been upped thoroughly. How humbling
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And you guys better not have too much shit. Our place is only so big.
[Yes, that was his version of offering..]
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[ Oh. ]
Most of our remaining wardrobe isn't even suited enough for funerals with us in the casket. And it's not as though the television was salvaged.
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When you get a house sorted out?
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Your diary's been salvaged.
[ Code word for: PASIV notes slightly singed and crumbling but otherwise okay. ]
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[ Eames bends down to scoop her up, tucking her into the crook of one thick arm like a tiny, tiny baby. He doesn't want her to cut her paws on something, okay. Jesus. ]
I'm not Yusuf. I don't speak cat.
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Unfortunate, Ariadne currently can't speak English (or French, or any other human language), so her response is another mew and a paw batted at his face. ]
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[ Eames catches the paw between his fingers, adjusting Ariadne to curl her over a shoulder, palm supporting her bottom so he can use his other hand freely. He carefully nudges the door to Yusuf's room open, beginning his search to see if there's anything in there that isn't burnt to a crisp. ]
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As for this, though, I'm not entirely sure.
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