Chapter seven

Aug 29, 2005 21:05

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windham_pryce August 30 2005, 13:38:05 UTC
"Lock the present, circle time...and let the chickens dance. That can't possibly be correct."

Sigh.

Who would have thought that Romanian would be my weak spot, translation-wise? The idioms are difficult, especially with my brain chock-full of Proto-Bantu, and the various Demonic dialects.

Ah, the door. Fred, bringing me some tea?

No.

"Melaka. What can I do for you?"

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versislayerfray August 30 2005, 13:43:23 UTC
“Sorry ta disappoint ya, Albion. An’ ya’ll can call me Mel, though no one ‘ere does,” I say, shuttin’ the door bahind me. “Was just wonderin’ if I can pick yer brain ‘bout somethin’?”

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windham_pryce August 30 2005, 13:55:43 UTC
"Of course. Please, take a chair," I say, inclining my head toward the one opposite the desk. "What's on your mind?"

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versislayerfray August 30 2005, 14:11:30 UTC
I do jus’ that, bringin’ my feet up ta rest on tha edge of the chair. I dunno why ‘m so anxious. “I ‘as just--I was just wonderin’ if maybe,” I sigh. Wordin’ this could be a problem, “I could take someone home with me?”

“If tha’s somethin’ that could be worked out? I’m not sure I understand what it is ya’ll are doin’ for me, an' I 'ppreciate it an' all, don' get me wrong. 'Sjust. Well. Woody said he ain't got much goin' for him 'ere an' I ain't got much ta go to, really. Mayhap there's somethin' we can work out?"

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