[The communicator turns on to coughing, angry muttering, and an oh-so lovely view of Logan's back. Whatever's in front of him seems to be expelling a good amount of smoke.
Those around (or just below) Latimir 506 will probably notice a foul smelling odor that was supposed to be Spaghetti-o's or some Discedo equivalent. Yeaaaah.]
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Is everything alright?
[She doesn't sound terribly worried. Coughing means you're alive, after all]
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And now he realizes that his failure was recorded too. SILENTLY RAGING.]
Wonderful.
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Might I ask what happened?
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[HE'S TRYING TO CLING ONTO HIS DIGNITY.]
I tried to prepare dinner.
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No.
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What happened? [Wondering if that's in his building.]
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That's none of your concern.
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Just what are you doing?
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Cough.] It's none of your concern.
[Feel free to argue otherwise.]
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It concerns my own place of residence, as well-- therefore, it is.
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... I was trying to cook.
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