[Sitting on something in the metropolis sector that reminded him of a bench but might actually have been something important and technological, Claire was sitting with the seal in his lap, chattering into it pleasantly about some of his recent happenings. Talk of ice cream socials, funny glasses, allegedly haunted houses among other topics of
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... There's a lot of flavors to choose from, so how would you choose a favorite anyways?
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Ahhh- that is a tough question! There's so many different ways, just like flavors, so let's see... You could go based on the one you eat the most, whichever tastes the most, or whichever one you talk about the most.. who knows?
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What's yours? Maybe it'll give me an idea of what mine is.
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[What kind of guy didn't know how to pick a favorite?]
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[A beat]
And, uhm. Orange sherbert.
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Gangsters usually aren't, you know.
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I know.
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. . . mint chocolate chip.
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Sounds classy, I'll be sure to be on the lookout for some.
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[... which is, not so coincidentally, where he's heading currently.]
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[Which is to say, he'll probably follow you out of curiosity if you say no, or something like that.]
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What kinda name for a guy is 'Claire'? Ain't it a chick's name?
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I think I'll call you somethin' like Sally, if that's how you wanna be.
[He laughs a bit, then loosens up.]
Would you rather call me Vino?
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[The last word he hisses in obvious distaste; there isn't much that he dislikes more than those who presume to have any kind of right to impose their rules on him. He lives his life in by his own choices and if he follows a lead that is not his own, then only because that's what he's chosen to do; nothing more, nothing less.]
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[It reminded him a bit of himself, not quite there, but it was more atypical than most of the people he'd seen so far.]
Must be a bother to be stuck here, hm?
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