[The audio feed clicks on as the person examines the communicator. His breath is controlled, calm and rational. If there was any shock or any surprise, then it isn’t shown - or at least it was taken care of before turning the device on
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I'm not best impressed, Karasu.
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...Where are you, my Dove?
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Oi! Learn to use that contraption. Ain't like I've got all day to poking round on this thing.
[She snorts.]
Thought it might be important, all that build up.
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Angeal's own video feed pops on, showing him smiling slightly.]
I'm sorry, Avari. This one's a little different from the one I had before.
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Took you long enough! Great useless lump!
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[Griiiiin.]
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No, sir. I'm not an angel.
Angeal Hewley, SOLDIER First Class.
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Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire.
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An honour to meet you, your highness.
[There's a certain stiffness to the tone, but one of awkwardness rather than dislike. This is someone who is clearly not very used to addressing royalty.]
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Um, what's that..?
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His voice is not unkind, but still quite firm.]
I apologize, miss. I was getting myself used to the device here.
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... Where did those feathers come from..?
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[He frowns at her next question and looks down. Sure enough, there's a light dusting of white feathers at his feet.
Typical. The moulting never stops.]
I'm afraid I'm to blame for that.
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