[Maes' back is to the PCD as he kneels on the ground, carefully putting children's books away on a small shelf. A rather large stack of books rests in the crook of one elbow. He's singing very quietly, a lullabye. The top shelf is only half-full and the books keep trying to tip. Maes has nearly finished filling it when he puts several in too
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I... It's been a very long month. Or few.
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I'd appreciate that, Hawke.
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I bring now?
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[[How would you like to handle this bit of CR?]]
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[[Offline or handwave or log, which would you prefer?]]
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I bring tea.
[[Offline!]]
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Hey, Hawke.
[The state of undress didn't bother Maes; there were no little eyes around to see it.]
Come on in.
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Too long, my fault. I'm sorry about that, Hawke.
[Accepting the tin, Maes gestures toward the kitchen where he's already got water heating up.]
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