The ship's been cleaned. Insanely. Every bit of it's shining brightly, even whiter than it normally is, and all is pristine and perfect for a trip that guarantees, considering time and the personages involved, that by the time they land, it'll be a mess
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"I don't believe we've met."
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He's trying very hard not to look out of his depth. But. 1815. Spaceship.
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A pause.
"Um, and Zan, if he calls for introduction. Same to you. Thanks for coming."
Max can't thank anyone enough.
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Max looks about.
"Havelock Vetinari, Robin Goodfellow, Meg Giry, Valentine Skywalker, Arthur Dent, um ... Mouse ... I don't have the best memory for names sometimes."
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"Hey, you made it! That's cool, man. Really cool."
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"Afternoon."
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"Hoopy. No dog, though. Bit of a hangover. But that's normal enough."
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He has no idea.
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