[The SFC feed clicks on, showing a small, darkish bedroom and someone wrapped in blankets like a cocoon, completely swaddled and hidden. The feed rolls cheerfully along for a moment or two, until the blankets shift, falling away as the person under them props himself up on one elbow, his back to the camera. Even without seeing his face, it's
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Er, smelling.
Oh, your blood tastes like blueberries. Don't mind Terezi, she's just going to be sitting here licking her SFC until you interrupt her. ]
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Just what I wanted to see, first thing this morning. What do I taste like?
[And you say sweat, he's hanging up this call immediately.]
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