I only just realised that I haven't actually....well, this isn't writing, I don't know what you'd call it. Saying hello? I haven't done anything like this for more than two months. That's not great, is it? I don't mean to be a wallflower, I don't think I'm secretive, not here. I talk to other people, but...
I s'pose it doesn't come naturally to me.
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How are you, Trip? I was a bit worried about you there. [Random comas are always vaguely unsettling k.]
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Reaver, my Inmate, he's been sulking for a few days now. Since we had our 'last conversation' apparently. So I've been at a bit of a loose end since he decided I'd earned some peace and quiet.
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He recognises the CES as a meadow that was near his hometown, half-enclosed in the bend of a river; there's blue sky overhead and black cloud on the horizon because the British autumn lives to mock whatever your clothing choices were on any given morning. He's giving serious thought to just leaving and sending his apologies when Olive appears; he offers a weaker smile than usual, and waves.]
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Yes?
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I have no idea what kind of training you're talking about, but I was talking about armed combat. Because he's a knight.
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