I had to sacrifice sixteen black lambs and three lime-green parakeets just to acquire this famous portrait painter's name alone.
Obtaining both it and dark stains on my trousers that'll be a complete bitch to wash out, I was referred to a wait-list. Said wait-list is written on a piece of parchment that traverses across Europe, the tail of which
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I don't speak keysmash.
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Haha.
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This is your fault.
WHERE ARE YOU.
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Hiding?
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(OOC: Argh, sorry.)
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Aside from those points, the picture isn't half-bad.
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Where have YOU been?
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H-how....how could you....
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...So he doesn't always look like that, then?
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