[It's been a while since mister Sinclair were on the main network instead of replying to people, so let's have him on video for a bit! He's laying slumped against his bed, and there's an ashtray overflowing beside his hand. All five of his pups are laying near or on him in some respect - three at the foot of the bed, on his feet and each other, one
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[ Casual tone here, after all they are such good and lasting friends now. ♥ ]
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[oooohhhh goooood miserablllle]
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Am I to understand that he is dead?
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[A cursory glance at the camera.]
Didn't think you'd mind.
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I would not put it like that, but given his condition I assume it was for the best.
[ And that's that on the subject. Now, on that misery you mentioned~ ]
How are you holding up, Mister Sinclair?
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[ Clearly she never does, anyway. But ah, that is cue for demonstration time, right? Without skipping a beat she adds: ]
Stand up.
[ It sounds just about as firm and commanding as possible and right about now should do just about nothing... other than perhaps the faint memory of it having done something at some point. ]
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I'd sooner die, Doc.
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Good. I would hate to find that the side-effects were the only thing in order.
Have a speedy recovery, Mister Sinclair.
[ And speaking of speedy, here's the click of the feed turning off. ]
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But, as per usual, Sinclair can't hear the narrations, so he shakes his head slightly, rolls his eyes and decides it's for the best she's turned her feed off.
He'd hate to have to keep pretending he cares.]
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