[ the words scrawled on the page are in a surprisingly neat and almost flowy handwriting, something those who know him probably wouldn't associate with his person. nevermind that he mastered the art of wielding a pen long before that of other sharp things-- awful poetry aside, of course. he contemplated speaking to the journal, but he didn't see
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Fred! Look at that. The one person I'd actually miss in LA showin' up here. Guess there's not much to miss about the place now after all. How long have you been here, luv?
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Except for the singing, but you never know. With all the experiments, it's bound to happen eventually.
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Oh, goodie. Looking forward to that-- only not.
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Doubt anyone is. Worst part is they happen every month.
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...joy.
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Love the hair color, by the way. That's a new look.
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Didn't exactly have the opportunity to burst into song when I was at Woodstock, but I'll have you know my voice is anything but tuneless.
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Woodstock? Like... actual Woodstock, Woodstock? You're from the 60s?
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[ he cuts himself off as the familiar voice catches up with him. ]
Bloody hell. Faith?
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