Lessons Michael Vaughn really should have learned by now:
Do not go out into the streets. Ever. Really. It's just a bad idea at this point, but dumb Boy Scouts are dumb and do not know when to say no.
Or maybe that's just Vaughn.
Because he's out, again. Without a weapon. Just tromping the streets, practically looking for trouble. The narration
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She very nearly runs smack-dab into Vaughn, turning at the last second a little bit to the right and therefore only smacking him with an arm (and possibly her messenger bag). She half-recoils, an apologetic look on her face, until she sees who it is.
Then she just bursts out laughing, raucously. She's having a good day. "Hi!" she chirps through giggles.
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"Hi!" he says back. Her mood is kind of infectious. Or maybe it's just seeing her again. "It's been a while since I've seen you!"
Really. It has. And that's probably Vaughn's fault. It always is, stupid Boy Scout.
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"Besides," she continues, dropping the mischievousness for mild annoyance, "I ran out of money at the pizza party awhile back, so it's harder to get fare into the grand ol' town proper." She gives him a hug. "How're you?"
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Words, Vaughn. You know how to use them.
He hugs her back, for just a second. "I've been... fine." He tries to think about whether or not he's been nearly killed in the time between now and the last time he saw her. He doesn't think he has (it's a lie). "I've stayed out of trouble." Oh, yeah. Jackalope. "Mostly."
Well, that time wasn't his fault anyway. Mostly.
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She raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Fine I can see, Mr. Indestructible, but out of trouble gets a little blurry 'round the edges." She pokes him in the chest. "No terrorists to fight yet?"
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Because Vaughn would totally take his own advice. Totally. Except for the part where, you know, he wouldn't. At all.
And then he blushes a little and looks at his feet. "No, no terrorists," he says, and it's the truth, for once. "And I have stayed out of trouble. Really."
That one's a lie.
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The skeptical look doesn't disappear. "Good to know the CLF hasn't gotten to you, but I can tell when you lie." She sticks her tongue out at him, then. "And not because you're bad at it."
Take that, Vaughn.
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And then he blushes a little and looks at his feet. "Well... so there might have been a small run-in with a jackalope." Which is a laughing matter, and he does chuckle a little bit, simply because it sounds so stupid. But it happened.
...His leg still hurts a little bit.
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Once she's gotten back to more-or-less normal with the giggling, she continues on: "Was it huge or normal-sized?"
Your dignity, Vaughn. You get none of it.
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And yes. Vaughn gets no dignity. "It, uh... it was huge," he says. "At least, it looked huge from where I was standing." Or rather, laying on the ground having his leg gnawed on, but that's not the point, is it? No. It most certainly isn't.
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He's a little embarassed about that, but it ran away before he really had a chance to actually fight back. Besides, running is good when you're confronted with a jackalope.
...He's still a man. He doesn't need to fight a jackalope to assert his manhood.
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